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THE HEIR OF AVENEL. 



JN THREE ACTS. 



FOUNDED ON THE POPULAR NOVEL OF "THE ABBOT, 

1nd originally performed at the Theairc. Ntio- Yorkj isUh 
universal ap/lavse. 



PUBLISHED BY HENRY I. M20AREY, 96, BROADWAV. 



W. Grf.ttan. Printer. 

1321. 



Southern District of New-Yorh, ^s. 

BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the twenty-third day of May, in 
the foitv-flfth year of the Independence of the United States of 
America, HENRY I. MEGAREY, of the said District, have depo- 
sited in this Office, the title of a Booli, the right whereof he clcums 
as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: 

Mary of Scotland, or the Heir of Avenel. A Drama, in three acts. 
Founded on the popular novel ot 'The Abbot," and originally per- 
formed at the Theatre, New-York, with universal applause. 

In covfnrmity to the Act of Congress of the United States, enti- 
tled, •' An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the 
♦* copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of 
" such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" And also, to an 
Act, entitled, " An Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled, an Act 
« for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of 
** maps, charts, and ooofvs, to the authors and proprietors of such 
•* copies, during the times tlierein meiitioned, and extending the be- 
« nefits thereof t« the arts of designing, engiaving, and etching his- 
« loricai and other prints." 

G. L. THOMPSON, 
Clerk of the Southern District of New- York. 



p.m. 

I S>oo 



■4 



PREFACE. 



The following piece was hastily sketched 
with a view to determine how far the pro- 
gressive interest, and diffused action, of 
*' The Abbot" could be concentrated so as 
to produce dramatic effect, and also to as- 
certain the disposition of the public to en- 
courage indigenous efforts. Hov/ever the 
author may have succeeded in the former 
of these objects, the issue of the attempt has 
proved that, if so few American plays are 
exhibited on the stage, the cause is not so 
much to be sought for in the dearth of pat- 
ronage, as in the absence or indolence of 
that genius which is necessary to call it into 
action. The success of "Mary of Scot- 
land," on its first representation, was uni- 
versal and unequivocal, and this auspicious 
result will induce a series of dramatic pro- 
ductions from the same pen, so long as they 
may be warranted by the kindness of mana- 
gers and the pubhc. 

To Mr. Simpson, the acting manager, 
whose ready acquiescence in every sugges- 
tion received new value from the gentle- 
manly politeness by which it was accompa- 



IV I'RErACE. 

iiied, the author owes much for that atten- 
tion to the stage arrangements, without 
which no drarna can he made effective. 

The performers, generally, are entitled to 
the thanks of the author for the earnestness 
with which, amidst an extraordinary pres- 
sure of demands on their time and talents, 
they applied themselves to the task of ob- 
taining their several parts. Mr. Maywood's 
personation of Roland Gramme perfectly em- 
bodied the author's conception of the cha- 
racter. It was chaste, natural, and effec- 
tive, the usual features of that gentleman's 
performance. Mr. Maywood is a poetical 
actor, and can enter into a poet's feelings ; 
and to the friends of correct taste and un- 
affected nature it must be a source of in- 
creasing gratification, that his style is be- 
coming daily more and more understood and 
estimated, and promises fair to put down 
that system of drawling declamation and 
sordid trickery which has so long imposed 
on mankind. 

Mr. Simpson's Douglas was eminently 
true. Mrs. Barnes looked, moved, and 
spoke the interesting Mary with prodigious 
effect; and Miss Johnson, in the lively and 
lovely Catherine, was all that could be 
wished. 

Kcw'York^ May 21, 1821. 



PROLOGUE. 

WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR. 



Another novelty ! Nay — pray be civil ; 

I'm sure you can't think novelty an evil. 

Though, in good truth, so sickly is the town. 

That novelty itself will scarce go down — 

Have we not brought out tragedies by scores, 

To draw dear patron:!ge within our doors — 

Wallace, Mirandola, and next, to cram 

Your sated appetites, a melo-drame ? — 

They did bat little — pathos, point, and passion 

The stage and all its arts were out of fashion. 

Once more we try — for stiil, in reason's spite, 

Actors must strut and storm, and bards must write. 

Once more we struggle, 'ere the season ends, 

To mend our prospects and increase our friend.?. 

No scenic pageantry, nor tragic might. 

Assists the eftorts of our baid to-night. 

No pomp of verse, nor sophistries profound, 

Nor rank ideas heated into sound — 

A tale of other lands and other times, 

Of sovereigns' wrongs and politicians' crimes 

Our drama shows, and if our feeble stage 

Revive the memory of that olden age. 

And cause again those frequent tears to flow 

W'hich generous eyes have wept for Mary's woe, 

We cry content, and greet the welcome cause 

Which brings once more your presence and applause. 



PROLOGUE. 

W^RITTEN BY A FRIEND, AND SPOKEN BY MRS. BARNES. 



To brilliant eyfs, that love to read, 

And feeling hearts, that pant and bleed 

O'er the wild scenes of mortal strife — ■ 

Drawn by the pencil to the life — 

A mys'tic genius waves his pen, , 

And days long fled, come back again. 

In mountain Scotia's classic land, 

The bold Unknowi* uplifts his wand. 

And waving, as the scene's unfurl'd. 

Throws his Enchantment o'er a world. 

Lo ! through the twihghl of the past, 
• What airy forms are coming fast? 

Spirits come — and spirits go — 

There's Jenny Dean and Ivanhoe ! 

Rob Roy, and all his clans appear, 

The battle's din assails our ear — 

Swift from the hills — where the wild deer are grazing^ 
Down from the crag — where the beacon is blazing — • 
" While war steeds are bounding, 
** And trumpets are sounding — 
They stand to their arms ! and they march in good order; 
As the bonny blue bonnets come over the Border. 

" Soldiers and knights appear in dread array — 

" Bearing wild war and havoc in their way : 

" Nobles and statesmen of the ancient time, 

" Castles and banners fill the scene sublime ; 

*' Heroes and queens, as called by him, revive, 

*' And all the illustrious dead's again alive. 

Drawn from tl)ese magic scenes — the play to night 
Faints Mary— -Queen of Scotland's hapless flight; 



Vlll PROLOGUE. 

" That queen whose youthful beauty, so 'tis said, 
" Fired many lovers' hearts, and turn'd their head- 
" And, sadder still, a truth to all well known 
" At last, poor hapless creature, turned her own. 
Yet who that sees this splendid, bright-eyed queen 
Cag-ed in a Castle, on Loch Leven's Green, 
In darkness, watching from her prison-grate 
The signal lights that tell her coming fate ; 
Or, when the battle's lost, she waves her hand 
And faintly cries — " Good night my native land," 
Feels not the witchery of her dazzling charms, 
And doubly shares in all her hopes alarms. 

By that fountain — on the mountain — 

JSear yon shade of Holly-Green, 

Lowly bending — slow descending — 

A mystic form in vVhite is seen. 
Spirit of tlie Chrjstal well! 
Shade of lofty 'Menel! 
O'er all our drama breaihe thy charm awhile, 
That we, this night, may win— our Patron's smile. 
Oh ! let it not be said the opening bloom 
Of native genius withers here in gloom j 
*< Rouse up the town — revive the drooping heart 
" Of the true votaries to the scenic art ; 
Support our author's, and our drama's cause, 
Send us rich houses, and your full applaufe. 



EPILOGUE. 

CATHARINE SEYTON, ROLAND GR.EME, AND 
ADAM WOODCOCK, 



Roland, (as he enters) 
Cowards and slaves! Had there been ten to one, 
To parley and cry " terms," were basely done ! 
By my good sword 

.idam . Nay, master dear, be quiet : 
It is not decent here to make a riot, 

Rol. Well then, good Adam, since our toils are past, 
And this fair dame consents 

Caih. Not quite so fast I 

A word or two friend Adam, — tell the truth — 
You've known this scape-grace from his early youth ; 
What are the creature's points, as jockies say : — 

Rol. Nay, Catharine ! Hark ye, knave ! 

Caih. I'll have my way — 

So prithee, page, be still His head, good Adam — 

Adam. For ever running into quarrel?, madam. 

Rol. Sirvah, your head shall suffer. 

Cath. Aye, indeed ! 

But not while I stand by. Adam, proceed — 
Freakish, no doubt.- — Wild as an uabroke colt.' 

Jdam. He broke my head, my lady ! — 

Rol. Silence, dolt ! 

.idam. Nay, sir, you know you did ! — because, forsooth 
Touching hawk's diet I declared the truth. 

Cath. He can't deny it, Adam ! — 

Rol. Heaven forbid ! 

.Warn. Mj tell-tale poll would poze you if you did. 



EPILOGUE. 

Ral. Forget it, Adam ! — if my youth was wild, 
Charge not to man the follies of the child. 
Thou lovest me well, and shall be falconer still. 

Adnm. And feed the hawks, good sir, which way I will, 

Rol. Just as thou wilt ; and have no future fears ; 
Thy rights shall all be sacred — and thy ears ! 
And now, fair lady — 

Calh. kye, Sir Choleric, now ! 

Rol. ]Nay, let no frown obscure that angel brow. 
'Twere a bad precedent to night, for see 
How many brows might catch that frown from thee. 

Cath. Well, here's my hand — the Author else may say 
We stood here quibbling till we damn'd the play. 
And now, good Critics, if a woman's prayer 
Can move your stern philosophy to spare, 
Decide with charity, — our anxious bard, 
If you refuse to smile, reaps no reward. 

Adam. Now let me speak, and, with your pardon. 
Madam ! — 
I can do much ; most folks are fond of Adam ! — 
If you approve the drama, kindly greet it, 
And fill the hoiwe, kind friends, when we repeat it. 



DRAMATIS PERSON^li, 



Lord Lindesay, .... Mr. Morelaad. 

Lord Ruthven, .... Bancker. 

iord Seyton . . _ - Anderson. 

Sir Halbert Glendinning^, - - Reed. 

Father Ambrose, - - - - WoodhuU. 

Roland Gramme, - - . - Maywood. 

George Douglas, - . - - Simpson. 

Adam Woodcock, - - - - Kilner. 

Luke Lundin, - - - - Barnes. 

Wingate, Spiller. 

Veniam, Nexsen. 

Lords, Officers, Peasants, Lc. 

Queen Mary, . . . - , Mrs. Barnes. 

Lady Lochleven, . - - . Kilner. 

Lady Fleming, .--.., Miss Bellinger. 

Catharine Seyton, _ . . . Johnson. 

Magdalen GrjEine, . - - - Mrs. Baldwin, 

Mrs. Lilias, Parker. 

White Lady of Avenel, - . - Miss Jones. 

SCENE.— SCOTLAND. 



The lines marked with in\ erted commas, arc omitted m 
the representation. 



ACT. I. 



SCENE I. — Steward's Room in Avenel Castle. 

WiNGATE and Mrs. Liljas, sitting at a table 
with wine and tweetmeais. Adam Woodcock 
at a little distance^ nursing Ids leg and sing" 



Mrs. Lilias. {sipping her wine.) Well, Master 
Wingate, thank heaven we have got rid of this 
Roland Grsenie at last ! We may now take our 
drop of Canary in peace ; so here's to his good 
journey ! 

Wingate. Amen ! Yet I wish him no ill, not I. 

Mrs. L. He's gone like a wild duck as he 
came; no lowering of bridges, nor pacing of 
causeways for him. 

Adam Woodcock, rocking in his chair and 
singing. 

" The Friars of Fail drank berry-brown ale, 

" The best that ere was tasted ; 
" The Monks of Melrose made gude kale, 

" On Fridays when they fastjed." 

Mrs. L. Heyday, Adam, "what fashes you 
man ?'* Won't you take a glass, and drink a 
merry journey to the saucy loon who knocked 
1 



^: MARY 

you into th^ cistern for maintaining that thr 
hawks* should feed on unwashed flesh ? 

Adam, singing, 

« Saint Morance sister, 
Th£ gray priest kist her — 

Fiend save the company • 
6ing hey trix, 
Trim go trix, 

Under the g;reenwood tree.** 

Mrs, L, Heaven save us ! Why the man's 
Haft or deaf! Did I take the trouble to make 
•all this mischief between my Lady and Roland, 
because of the blow he gave you, and now you 
refuse to show a little decent gratitude, by mak- 
ing merry with us at the churl's departure. 

Adam, singing, 

"From haunted spring and grassy rinj, 
Troop, gobhn, elf, and fairy" — 

rU tell you what it is, Mrs. Lilias — may be he 
did hit me a rough blow, and may be I would 
rather have taken it from him than a rough word 
from another, for he had a good notion of fal- 
conry, though he did stand up for washing the 
meat for the eyasses. Dang it, I'm a York- 
shireman, and have no memory for old sores ! 
I see no great cause for merriment at his depar- 
ture. 

Win, Thou art correctly sagacious, Adam, 
and sagaciously correct. Those who have lived 
msJoDg in great families as I have, will be in no 



OF SCOTLANB. o 

hurry to rejoice at any thing. And for Roland 
Graeme, though he may be a good riddance, 
what says the Scotch proverb, Mrs Lilias — " Sel- 
dom comes a better !" 

Mrs. L. " Seldom comes a better," indeed. 
I say, never can come one half so bad. He 
might have been the ruin of our poor dear mis- 
tress, body and soul, (pjiis a handkerchief to her 
tyes) and estates too, for she spent more coin 
on his apparel, than on any four servants about 
her ; and he had very nigh brought papistric 
among us, for what should I sea in his room but 
a string of gold beads ! I promise you — aves 
and credos both .' I seized on them like a fal- 
con, and here they are. 

Adam, sin^s, 

«' And the kelpie must flit from the black-bog pit, 
" And the brownie must not tarry." 

" Right proper, popish beads they are," and such 
as I have seen with Father Ambrose, only these 
are more precious. 

IFiTi. They may weigh four ounces of fine 
gold. I pray heaven there may not be the trou- 
ble about them that there was, in time of oli, 
about the black volume with the clasps. 

Mrs. L, Eh, Master Wingate, what was that? 

Win. Why, have you never heard, Mrs. L> 
lias, of the old tradition in the family, of tLe 
White Lady of Avenel, and the mysterious book t 

Adam, (aside) Now the old steward's on his 
hobby, and the waiting- worn an as eager for a 
tale, as an unhooded falcon for a flight. 



4 MARY 

Mrs. L. (looking round her fearfully) Never, 
Master Wingate. 

jri7i. It is believed that the right heir of this 
castle is alive, and until he gains his right, the 
spirit of the house of Avenel will not lie at rest. 
But you shall hear. When Sir Halbert was a 
boy, the White Lady appeared to him, as she 
had previously done to Philip the Sacristan, and 
Father Eustace, the sub-prior, afterwards Abbot 
of Kennaquhair, who both attempted to steal a 
book from our lady's mother, for the which the 
Sacristan got a sound ducking, and the sub-prior 
was knocked from his horse, and the book, in 
both cases, was returned. 

Adam. I doubt me much whether she will take 
the same trouble to win back the gold beads ; 
seeing that neither bead nor cowl could protect 
the two fathers from her vengeance. 

Win. I would have you to dispose of them 
straightway, Mrs. Lilias, to prevent accidents. 

Mrs. L. They shall misguide no more poor 
souls, for I'll have them melted into a pair of 
shoe-buckles. I would not wear the Pope's 
trinkets one inch above my in-step, were they 
diamonds instead of gold. I thought what would 
come of Father Ambrose sneaking about the 
castle every day. 

Jdam. Hush, Mrs. Lilias, Father Ambrose is 
our master's brother, and Sir Halbert loves him 
next to our mistress, although they disagree in 
religion. 

JFin. And I verily believe there may be worse 
folks than Father Ambrose, though he is a^ 

Mrs. L. I wonder where you'll find them : 



OF SCOTLAND. & 

but I believe, Mr. Wingate, if one were to speak, 
to you about the devil himself, you would say 
there were worse people than Satan. 

Win. Assuredly, I might say so, if I saw Sa- 
tan at my elbow. 

M7's, L. (starting and screaming) Lord bless 
us ! I wonder you can take pleasure in frighten- 
ing one thus .' 

Adam, sings, 

" To Limbo Lake 

« Their way they take, 

« With scarce the pith to flee." 

Win. I did not mean to frighten you, Mrs. Li- 
lias ; but listen, and you, Adam, come nearer. 
The Monk party are down for the present^ but 
who knows how long that present will last ? If 
Queen Mary should come in again, down goes 
the Earl of Murray, our master's patron, and 
down goes our master himself, and who so like 
to mount into his saddle as Father Ambrose. — 
The Pope may release him from his vows, and 
we should then have Sir Edward the soldier, in- 
stead of Ambrose the priest. Now do you un- 
derstand why I suffered the Monk to have fre- 
quent conferences with Roland Graeme ? 

Adam, sings. 

" Sing hey g« trix, 
*' Trim go trix, 

" Under the greenwood tree.'^ 

Mrs, If. What, Master Wingate, havfi you 
1* 



6 MARY 

eaten my mistress's bread, not to say my mas- 
ter's, who is himself base-born, and owes all to 
my lady, for so many years, that you could live 
to think of her being dispossessed of her own 
Castle of Avenel by a Monk, who is not a drop's 
blood t© her, by way of relation Though a 
woman, I would try if my rock or his cowl were 
better metal first. 

Win. Not so loud, Mrs. Lilias, not so loud. 
I only spoke of peradventures. But I have a 
choice bottle of Canary in ray private closet, full 
sixteen years old, and if you will go and taste it, 
we will talk further of this matter, and drink to 
our Lady of Avenel. 

Mrs. L. That I will. Master Wingate, and 
may she never want a faithful major-domo like 
you, nor an affectionate waiting-woman — 

Win, Like Mistress LiHas. Well imagined. 
[Exeunt Wingate and Mrs. Lilias. 

Adam, sin^s. 

« To Limbo Lake 

« Their way they take"— 

To the devil with you both — one for as arrant a 
mischief-maker as ever put pin in a lady's ruff, 
and the other for as time-serving a rascal as 
ever kept the key of a wine cellar. I'll take my 
falcon, and away after Mr. Roland; mayhap he 
may want a little money, and Pre thirty good 
Harry groats in my pouch, which he shall share 
with me To be sure he struck me, but I can't 
be like some of the Scots, who can be fair and 
false, and wait their time, and keep their mind. 



OP SCOTLAND. J 

as they say, to themselves, and touch pot and 
flagon with you, and hunt and hawk with you, 
and after all, when lime serves, pay off some old 
feud with the point of the dagger. I can't bear 
malice against him, for though nobody knows 
who begot him, and he has a spice of the devil 
in his disposition, he always had a kind heart, 
and a proud spirit far above his station. 

[Exit, singing, 

" And rather would Allan in dung^eon lie, 
" Than live at large where the falcon can't fly ; 
<* And Allan would rather be in Sexton's pound> 
" Than live where he follow'd not the merry hawk and 
hound." 



SCENE. — Interior of the Monastery of St. 
Mary's. 

Distant voices cJiaunting a requiem. A knoching 
at the gate of the Monastery — the chaunt 
ceases. 

Enter Father Ambrose, foUoived by Veniabi. 

Father A. What hand profane disturbs tlie 

solemn mass, 
^nd bids the requiem pause ? Good Vcniam, 

to the gate. [Exit Veniarn. 

A herald, perhaps ; some greedy heretic 
Charged with unhallowed power. Too well we 

know 
Ambitious Morton's views— the fiefs— the rights- 



8 MARY 

All temporalities of Kennaquhair, 

To feed a brother's lust. Oh f sacred mother. 

Avert the ruin from thy holy shrine. 

** Let not the impious arm of secular pride 

" Lay waste thine altar, nor from drunken feasts 

" The red debasing draught defile the tombs, 

** And mingle with the reliques of thy children." 

Enter Veniam. 

Ven. A wandering brother of our faith. 

Father A. Admit him. [Exit Veniam. 

A cell among the ruins, and a seat 
To share the scanty board which crafty fraud. 
And loftier violence have deign'd to leave us, 
Are our's to profier still. 

Re-enter Veniam and Douglas disguised as a 
Monk. Exit Veniam. 

Father A. Welcome, brother. (Douglas sud- 
denly throws open hisfriar^s habit, and discovers 
himself.) Do my eyes deceive me ? 
Has aught befel the queen ? Speak, gallant 
Douglas. 
Doug. Thank heaven ! the sacrilegious hand 
of treason 
Has not profaned as yet that sanctuary 
" In which seraphic sweetness, dignity, 
" Grace, beauty, love, incomparable wit, 
" Associate with a mind of matchless worth, 
*^ Blend all their properties.'- 
Father A. Remains she still — 
Boug. Lochleven's prisoner ! Watch and 
ward kept round her, 



OF SCOTLAND. V 

^' On the mann'd walls the itiounted culverins, 
" And sordid spies, like base obnoxious reptiles, 
" Crawling about her steps." Oh ! it galls me 

sore 
To see a mother of the Douglas race 
Playing the gaoler's part. 

Father A. Lady Lochleven hates the queen. 

Doug Too well I kno'.v't good Ambrose — 

Before Mar's daughter married with a Douglas 

(Oh that this tongue should dwell upon her 

frailty !) 
By the beguiling vows of perjur'd James 
Won to his lewd desires^ — why should I dwell 

on it ? 
You know the Regent Murray was the fruit. 
While Mary, springinjy from a lawful bed, 
W^hen James, forgetful of his former plight, 
Took to his arms a Guise, not for herself, 
But for her envied mother's better fortune 
Is hated by the Douglas mother. 

Father A. The queea's religion too ! The 

Lady Douglas 
Holds faith with those whose persecuting fury 
Has made the Virgin's altars desolate, 
O'erthrown our saints, our convent lands seques- 

ter'd — 
Doug. Father, enough of this! The queen 

shall find 
There is a Douglas yet in whose warm breast 
Faith, loyalty and love — for who can dwell 
Within the vortex of those heavenly graces, 
And still retain the mastery of his soul — 
Struggle for freer scope and enterprize 
Equal to their devotion. Now to my business / 



10 aiARY 

The plan of Mary's friends to break her thral<fom 
You know, good Ambrose. 

Father A. I do, brave youth ! 
And every prayer the morn or vesper breeze 
Bears from my lips, wafts to the Virgin's law 
My soul's first earthly wish for its success — 

Doug. Even now, I journey homeward from 
the south : 
The Flemings, Hamiltons, Northumbria's Earl, 
And all the well-affected of the borderers, 
I have advis'd, that at the appointed cue 
Their faith and courage may be tested. 

Father A. What part devolves on me ? 

Doug. You shall hear ! 
To shew myself in Edinburgh, now throng'd 
Full to a surfeit with the base retainers 
Of traitorous Murray ; where, at every corner, 
Some courtly knave might recognize a Douglas — 
Were to excite suspicion. Yet the queen 
Has sturdy friends there, whose bright swords 

remain 
Inactive but from lack of fit occasion 
Effectively to act ! — 

Father A. The Seytons, Douglas ? 

Doug, The very same. This packet which 
contains 
The detail of our plan, the time, the manner, 
And agents of its execution ; and more, 
The common signal for co-operation. 
Must by some trusty herald be conveyed 
To those whose legal courage, apt and eager, 
But tarries for the word. 

Father A, I have it, Douglas: 
Not more remote from this our monastery 



eW SCOTLANB. U 

Than its own shadow in the sun, there dwells 
A lonely sister ; not the concentered vigour 
Of stern devoted faith these ruined walls 
Inclose within their limits, can compete 
With her's alone. " Penance, and peril too 
" Which even the sturdiest brother of our order 
" Would scare from its encounter, as the firm oak 
*' Receives the o'ercharg'd tempest's thundering 

iury, 
^' Her spirit meets unshrinking." 

Doug. Whence comes she ? 

Father A. From the disputed land. Inquire 
no further. 
Did not confession's seal close up my lips 
I would say more. 

Doug, To doubt your tried discretion 
Would be an ill requital of your love. 
'Twere well, perchance, I knew her name. 
But as you will, good father .' 

Father A. Magdalen Graeme ? 
Her lofty port, her stern forbidding mien, 
The wild and dauntless character of soul 
Which flashes from her eye, and, above all, 
Her calm contempt of bodily jeopardy. 
Have gain'd her from the slanderous populace 
The reputation of a witch. 

Doug, Enough ! 
To your disposal I entrust the packet. 
" Time presses ; and each moment unimprov'd, 
Leaves a reproach behind." Yet ere we part, 
A word or two upon another subject. 
Eustace is dead ! Even as I entered here, 
The dying cadence of the solemn mass 
Broke on my ear. What daring hand will sei^e 



12 MARY 

Tliebrowless mitre and the pastoral stafif 
Which Morton craves ? 

Father A, Already in a chapter of our order 
Election has been made ; and Kennaquhair 
To night invests me with the sacred symbols. 

Doug. Be sure it be to night ! To give you joy, 
Is but to greet the martyr to the stake; 
The victim to t!ie altar and the knife 
Which drinks his blood. Delay it not an hour ! 
The installation o'er, your biother's influence 
May work on Murray to confirm the act, 
And Morton to concede his claim. 

Father A. And should it not, the mother of 
the church 
Shall give the glittering crown of martyrdom 
To him who proves, by faith inflexible, 
And scorn of corporal suffering, his just claim 
To such eternal recompence. But come; 
You need refreshment ; and tho* our refectory 
Will poorly rival proud Lochleven's tables, 
Our frugal fare is blessed. Come, my son. 

Doug. I follow you, my father. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III.— TAc interior of CuthherVs cell 

A broken image lyinghy its pedestal — a fractured 
crucifix^ and other fragments — wi ado uis broken 
— entrance behind through broken arches. 

JEJrtier Roland Gr.Ex^ie, dejected, his arms folded. 
The deer reposes in his lair ; — the wolf 
Through tangling forests nucs his secret den J — 
Deep in the hollows of the rugged cii0s 



OF SCOTLAND. 13 

The eagle ha& her nest ; — aye, even the viper — = 
That sordid reptile in whose slimy coil 
Venom engenders — knows his resting place : — 
While I, like a searV! leaf, in autumn storms, 
Reft from what tree I know not, here and there. 
By every breath am buffeted and driven. 
*' Yon saucy churi, who pass'd me by the way, 
" Must tauntingly demand — whither I shap'd 
^' My tardy steps ? * Perchance/ quoth he, ^ our 

fadier 
" ^ May find some new preferment.' It was well, 
*' Well for the clown, perhaps for myself 'twas 

well, 
" I had not touch'd my dagger's hilt, when 

Woodcock, 
" Whose falcon thrice had brush'd my plume, 

appeared, 
" And down the glen the villain slunk away." 
All gracious Virgin ! when these trembling lips 
Breathe forth the sound of " father" — is there 

none 
In all this wide, and animated earth 
Whose heart will give response ? Base born I 

am not ! 
My swelling soul,-these high aspiring thoughts- — 
The index in my bosom whose bright finger 
Points to an indistinct but certain light 
Gilding the horizon of my distant years — 
Repel the withering imputation ! Yet 
What I am I know not. " In my brain 
" A chaos wild of images and things 
" Perpetual confusion." (looking round.) Des©- 

lation ! 
Congenial ruin ! Fit companionship ! 
2 



14 Si All Y 

Grant me a fleeting refuge ! "What do I see ?" 

(approaching the broken cross.) 
Holy Saint Culiibert ! what unhallowed hands 
Have done this sacrilege ? What impious fury 
Outrag'd the sacred badge of our redemption? 
Oh ! that this arm could rear the broken cross ! 

(He stoops and employs himself in replacing 
the crucifix in its socket.) 

Enter from an archway behind, Magdalen 
GrjEme, who stands for a few sesonds, survey- 
ing the exertions of Roland. 

Mag. Well done, thou true and faithful ! Thus, 

again ; 
Thus would I meet thee ! " I have watch'd and 

wept, 
<^ And with long prayer and penance wrestled 

for thee, 
" From night till weary morn, while drifting 

snows 
" Weve round these limbs of mine, a midniglrt 

shrewd ; 
" And have I not prevail'd ?'' Tho' nurtured, 

school'd 
Within the lazaret of heresy, 
The leprous plague thou hast escap'd ! — 

Rol. Mother ! For all of parent, nurse or friend 
These eyes have ever gaz'd on, or these lips 
Saluted with these tenderest names, in thee 
Are centered — if I have stood unshaken, 
And held my faith, to the good Father Ambrose 
Thy thanks and mine are due. 
Mag. Mother of heaven ? 



OP SCOTLAND. 15 

Reward him for his zeal ! In field and cell — 
Pulpit, or at the altar, be he bless'd ! 
He knew not of thy birth ! 

RoL " How could he know it ?" 
My birth, alas ! What do I know myself? 
A faint remembrance glances o'er my brain 
Of tales with which thou didst beguile my child- 
hood — 
Something about a knight who fell in battle — 
A castle and inheritance which ought 
To call me lord — and this, alas ! but feeds 
A dream of wild conjectures More than mother ? 
Leave me in doubt no longer. 

Mag, Ask me not now ! 
It were imprudent ! — When the time is apt, 
I shall be near ihee ! Plans of mighty import 
Demand thine efforts. ^last thou left Avenel ? 

RoL Left ! Mother ! I have lived to be dis- 
missed. 

Mag, So much the better. Keep thy ven- 
geance festering 
Within thy bosom ! It will aid my scheme 
And fit thee to perform what must be done. 

RoL <' What must be done ?" Let it be noth- 
ing then 
Against the Lady Avenel ! There was a menace 
Thy words and look implied : but to her scathe 
No aid expect from me ! — Have I not known 
The joy of her caress: — her smile, protection ; 
Sate at her board, partaken of her cup, 
Eaten her bread ? — I will not injure her. 

Mag. Another mistress claims thee; and when 
heaven 
Commissions ihec to work its high designs, 



16 MARY 

And aim the arrow of its wrath, wilt thou 
Reply with impious haste, here will I strike, 
And here, forbear ? '• JL*ear witnes?,, holy saint, 
" Before whose violated shrine we stand, 
" As for no private vengtance, nor the view 
" Of temporal honor, 1 pursue the foes 
" Of heaven and of my country, so no yearnings 
" Of this iniperfert nature, shall betray me 
" To spare the guilty." 

Rol " Mhat must 1 infer 
" From thio mysierious language ? Am I ever 
" To grope in darkness ?" 

Ma^. {r.:ipctuoudly.) ^' Ha ! Dost thou dispute 
my bidding-, thotighiless boy ? 
" Did I not swathe those limbs of mine, and teach 
" Thy tongue to extiicate itself from silence j 
" And wilt diou turn rebellious, now I lack 
*^ The service of thy ripened faculties ?" 

B,oL Treat me no longer as a child ! Unfold 
The nature of your scheme, and doubt me not, 
My arm, my dagcfer, aiid ni) heart's best blood 
Yourconndenre shall justify :~but never 
Will I become a puppet — a machne — 
A mere corporeal agent — to be worked, 
But never trusted .'—Well, well— I'll do't ! I'll 

do't ! 
That look of grief subdiies me. 

Mag. 'Tis heaven subdues thee. Thou art 
still my son ! 
Thy 'sovereign's, and thy country's sighs have 

risen 
Above the songs of martyrs, and prevailed. 
But come, that youthful frame requires refresh- 
ment, 



OP SCOTLAND. 17 

For we have other business yet ! (Takes provi- 
sions from her scrip, and lay a them on a 
rough table.) 
Rol. What business ? 

./¥ao^. Ask not, but sit and eat. Husband tliy 
strength — 
Nourish thy Umbs for action— these are times 
When Scotland needs her childven. (Roland eats.) 
Rol. ^' Why stand aloof? Why not partake 
the food 
*' You have provided ?" 

Mag. " Has this wasted body 
'" EndurM long abstinence, and penance volun- 
tary — 
" And countless vigils spent in prayer ? And now 
" That I have work to do, shall food or rest 
" Ssduce me from the task ?" 'Tis near the time 
They must be here ! (aside.) — I will retire, my 

son ! 
Within the chapel I must hold a conference. 
Wait thou for my return. [Exit under the archway 
Rol. (rising from the table.) Mysterious wo- 
man ! 
" Round me each moment multiplies the coils 
*^ Already countless. In such a magic ma^e 
*^ Of inward doubt and dark perplexity, 
" Where can I turn?" Hold a conference — said 

she ? 
With whom — or what ? " By all tlie Saints : 

She twines me 
" To every purpose of her soul, as easily 
" As if my heart and reason were concurrent 
'^ To work ker pleasure. Left I hawk and hound 
" To be her j:upil ?" Like a hooded hawk 
2* 



18 MARY 

Shall I he carried on a woman's wrist, 
And only siiown the quarry at the instant 
When I must make my flight. I'll know he/ 

object 
Ere I go further. 

winter from the Arcliway, Magdalen Graeme and 
CATHARrxE Seyton, vcUecl : they remain un- 
der the arch. 

Mag. You know yoi.ir destination ! The 
gloaming hour 
Will soon give place to night ! There stands the 

youth — 
Your fellow labourer in the important work. 
Observe him well ! Become acquainted with hinj ' 
But of your journey, or its course, or purpose, 
Breathe not a whisper I I must to the chapel, 
Where Sister Bridget waits me ! 

[Exit Magdalen, 

Cath. (advancing sloicly to the front, removing 
her veil, and cahidy surveying Boland, who is 
leaning against a broken pillar in sullen thought' 
fulness. He moves; Catharine starts and shrieks.) 
Cry you mercy ! 

I took you for a Saint, stepp'd from his niche 
For change of attitude ! Are you a man ? 

Rol. (bowing confusedly) I wear the form of 
one, fair gentlewoman I 
And have his breath and motion — but his mind, 
Free agency, and proud determined will, 
Heaven has omitted. 

Cath. (laughing heartily) Ha ! ha ! ha f ha ! 
And what has chafed thee thus, thou empty case? 



OP SCOTLAND. - 19 

Thou shell of something human ? Or rather, 
Tell me what comely outside work thou art, 
With which Dame Bridget and Sister Magdalen 
Would have me ratify a league of friendship ? 

Rol How ! fair lady ? 

Cath. How ! fair gentleman ? 
Why, we are mated in some enterprize, 
To be explained anon ; — some minutes' space. 
While the two matrons lay their heads together, 
Are given us just to break the ice of form, 
And ask each other questions. 

Rol. P'aith ! They displayed 
Some taste in the selection, when they sent 
So fair a comrade. 

Cath. Come, that's passable ! 
But how shall we begin to make acquaintance ? 

Rol. Suppose we copy from the nursery tales, 
And ask each other's names. 

Cntli. Right well imagined ! 
Thou art a shrewd outside / Come, I will listen 5 
Your name, my new acquaintance I 

Rol. Roland Graeme ! -:* 

And that tall woman is 

Cath. Your mother ? 

Rol. She bore me not, and yet she is — my 
mother ! — 
My only friend ! — the all of life I know ! 

Cath. AVho are your parents ? 

Rol. They are dead, fair lady ! 

Cath, Then who were they ? 
You had parents, I presume ? 

Rol. 'Tis probable ! 
But the soft pressure of a mother's lips 
Mine have not felt. I never knew the joy 



20 MARY 

A mother's smile imparts. Enough ! enough ! 
I knoiv but this, that they were nobly born, 
And died with honour. Yet a lioipless boy. 
Snatched from t'le peril of a wj.'eiv grave, 
To Avenel Castle, sonne kind ha "d convey'd me, 
Like a hurt wild duck, to the lady. There, 
Till within these few hours, I have lived 
The lady's }>age. 

Cath, And what accomplishments 
Obtained you there r 1 dearly love to know 
What, in the hour of need, my friends can do. 

Rol. 1 can back horse, and hollow to a hound, 
Wield lance and bow and brand, — and fly a 
hawk ! 

Cath. And thus you proved the qualities of 
page ! 

PtoL Some (e\v exploits besides, fair gentle- 



woman 



I hunted cats, shot swans, frightened the maids, 
Chas'd deer, and robb'd the orchard : and now 

and then, 
Like a good Catholic, plagued the castle chap- 
lain. 
Cath, Why have you left such service ? 
Rol. Fair lady ! 
I could not brook the vulgar insolence 
Of serving men and maids. They tnunted me, 
Called me a foundling — child of charity — 
A water drake — wrought up to fury, 
This morn, I drew my dfiggex on a knave 
Who callM me churl-born : the brightness of tie 

blade 
Alarm'd the paltroon, and away he ran 
With all the buttery minions at his heels 



OF SCOTLAND. 21 

Strait to the lady's chamber: r>lie was anger'd— 
I too proud to bend, and so we parted ! 

Cath. Where met you Sister Magdalen ? 

Rot. In this cell, 
Where accident had brought me. Now, fair 

maiden, 
Your name and history ? 

Cath. I am an orphan ; 
My name is Catharine Seyton ; and my story 
The counterpart ofyour's. Dame Bridget is — 

Rol. Your grandmother ? 

Cath. VV^orse, ten times worse than that — 
My maiden aunt. I too was tried at service ! 

RgI. And speedily was turn'd adrift, I doubt 
not, 
For pinching the duenna, or affronting 
My lady's waiting woman I 

Cath. Nay, not so ! 
Our mistress had no more occasion for us ; 
She gave up housekeeping. Few ladies were 

there 
Who had more gentlewomen under her ; 
Or kept a stricter discipline ; — long prayers, 
Light food, and late and early labour — 

Rol. Out on the old pernicious beldame ! 

Cath. For heaven's sake, hold your tongue ! 
The holy Saints 
Forgive me ! Saint Catharine of Sienna — 
She was the dame I spoke of, and a convent 
The mansion ; it contained twelve nuns. 

Rol. And you were one ? Where are the rest t 

Cath. With the last winter's snow; the hur- 
ricane, 
East, west, north, south, has scatter'd them 
abroad, 



X.'2 MAR5r 

I know not whither ! 

RoL Well, and this enterprise 
Which claims your energies and mine. What 
is it? 

CotJi, Alas ! — But here comes Magdalen. 

Enter Magdalen Graeme, hastily* 

Mag. (advancing hcticeen them) So ! Have you 
well surveyed each other's features ? 
Traced every line — conversed with every tone — 
Become familiar with each other's step — 
And every motion of the eye and hand 
Read and rehearsed — so, in whate'er disguise 
You may hereafter meet, your penetration 
May not be baflled ? Answer, Roland Grsemel 
Wilt thou this maiden recognise, wherever, 
Or whensoever, thou shall meet her ? 

Rol, Fear not I No time nor circumstance can 
wither 
The freshness of her portrait in my heart. 
Mag. And thou, my daughter, wilt thou bear 
in memory 
The features of this youth ? 
Cath. Truly, my mother, 
I have not seen so nmny men of late, 
That I should soon for,:^et him ; tho' I mark 
Not much about him lo icserve remembrance. 
Mag. Embrace and part then ! Now, my 
daughter, hence ! 
All is prepared : this night, our pious sister 
Departs with thee for Edinburgh. Away ! 

[Exit. Catharine^ interchanging silent 
adieus mith Roland. 



OF SCOTLAND. 23 

RoL And whither do we go ? 
Mag. To Kennaquhair ? 
A hundred steps will bring us to the Abbey. 
RoL And whither thence? 
Mag. Where heaven commands thy steps, 
And I conduct thee ! Owest thou me so little, 
That thus with niggard and reluctant wiil, 
Thou yieldest obedience ? 

RoL I forget not, mother, 
How much I owe thee; and the life thou nursed'st, 
To thee most freely I devote ! The world 
Hath not a desart nor a danger in it 
I would not brave to do thy pleasure. " But 
*' Allow my reason some participation 
" In my obedience ! 

Mag. " Holy Saints and Angels ! 
" Have I knelt by thy bed, and wearied heaven 
*' With prayers for thee, and thou refusest now 
" To do ray bidding ! Hear me, ungrateful boy ! 
" Restst the lot which calls thee if thou wilt, 
" And go thy way — leave me — my hopes are 

withered ! 
" Before yon ravaged altar I will kneel, 
" Till in its socket the spent lamp of Hfe 
" Shall shroud its latest glimmer !" 

RoL " But, my mother, 
*•' I will not forsake you ; by your side I'll stay ; 
" My arm shall buckler you I I'll shed my blood 
"In your defence!" 

Mag. One word were worth all these I 
Say — I'll obey you ! 

RoL With all my heart, I will ; 
Doubt not — but yet — 
Mag, Pause there — and blessings on thee 



24 aiARY 

That thou hast promised ! The eyes of Angels 

— Saints — 
Are on this barren, blighted land — on us — 
On the frail woman and the giddy youth, 
Who thus, amidst the ruins, not by time, 
But impious fury made, devote their lives 
To Heaven and Scotland's sovereign. 

(She leads Roland to the CrosSy and 
makes him kneel with her.) 
" Blessed host ! 
" Martyrs and Saints, who listen to our vow, 
^' Witness its execution ! If we desert 
^'^ The sacred cause, expunge our recreant names 
" From the bright record of the souls you love; 
" Make all our prayers unfruitful; scathe and 

scorn 
" Scatter in all our paths, and when the death- 
damp 
^* Stands in big drops upon our dying foreheads, 
'* Leave us to sink in merited despair !" 

[Thei/ I'ise and come forward. 
Now then to Kennaquhair I [Exeimt. 



SCENE-Tnteiior of the Monastery of St, Mary^s. 
The Hall lighted tip ; the Altar ^ and every pre- 
paration for the Installation. A pair of fold- 
ing doors at the back of the scene. 

Enter Father Ambrose. 

Father A. *' All things are ready for the in- 
stallation ! 
" And soon the mitre which Eustatius wore 



OP SCOTLAND. 25 

" Shall circle this less worthy forehead. Even 

now 
" The trembling brothers wait, with sinking 

hearts, 
" Their new elected Abbot ! Not ambition — 
" Sainted Eustatius ! — not ambition prompts me 
" To fill thy desolated seat ! Alas / 
" No earthly wealth — no temporal influence 
" Now dignifies the sacred office ! — No ! 
" Nor humble vassals throng to offer tribute. 
" The power and splendor of the pastoral name 
" Have pass'd away, and left its poor possessors 
*^ A heritage of poverty and peril. 
" But I must on to the consistory. 
" I hear the echoes as the impatient brethren 
" Pace, too arJl fro, the cloister'd avenues. 

[Exit Ambrose. 

Enter Veniam, followed by Magdalen Grjeme 
and Roland. 

Ven. Intrate ! Sister ! Welcome too, my son .' 
In good time have you come — the wicks are 

lighted — 
The altar cleansed — the ruins swept aside — 
And from the chapter-house already moves 
The short procession ! No throwing wide the 

gales 
To admit the humble laity — no chime 
Of merry bells — 

Mag. Regard not that, my brother ! 
In the first ages of our holy church 
In tears — in tempests were her abbots chosen:— 
Not in the Vatican, but the deep vaults 
3 



2G MARY 

And subterraneous dungeons of the heathen ; — 
Not greeted with the shouts of multitudes, 
The roar of cannon, artificial fire, 
But by the Lictors' and the Preetors' summons 
Which calPd the fathers forth to martyrdom. 
From such adversity she rose 5 and now 
By such shall she be purified ! 

Fen. Come then ! 
I see the lights that move this way. 

(Veniam opens the folding doors: the organ 
strikes up in solemn swell, accompanied by the 
voices of the monks in deep chorus.) 

Enter Father Ambrose, and a train of monks, 
hearing torches, and chaunting the mass, as 
they arrange themselves on each side of the 
altar. As the chorus continues^ 7ioises are heard 
without ; ye//s, and horns, and hells ^ becoming 
louder and louder. The monks cease their 
chaunt, and huddle round the Abbott^ who mo- 
tions them to be calm. Magdalen and Roland 
advance from the place where they had stood 
unseen. Magdalen approaches the altar, and 
appears about to speak. Roland looks towards 
the door, and half unsheathes his dagger. 

Father Jl. Speak uot, my sister ! and my son, 

forbear 
To touch thy earthly weapon ! " Saint Mary's 

" head 
^^ Himself shall greet the clamorous train of vas- 

" sals, 
** Who come to celebrate his installation !" 
If blood this day must desecrate our siirinc, 



OF SCOTLAND. 2? 

Thou mayest not shed it. {Loud knocking, mid 
Father Jinihrose advances toivards the 
gate.) Whosoe'er you are, 
Whose boisterous interruption breaks our wor- 
ship. 
Peace — and reply — whence came you ? 

Voice without. Open the doors I 
Open, sir monk, or dowi) they go ! 

Several voices. Hurrah ! 
Down with the doors ! down with the hirdane 
, monks ! 
Father A. By what authority demand you en- 
trance ? 
Voice iffitoout. Our own, old piety ! 
Several voices. Aye, our own. 
Father A. Begone, niy erring children. I alone 
In this household autharity. 
Voices without. Hurrati ! 
Down with the doors ! (loud hammering at the 
doors.) 
Father Jl. Cease ! cease, my children I (mo- 
tions to Veniam, who retires.') 
The porter shall unlock the doors ! Meantime 
Consider if your state of mind be fit 
To cross the holy threshold. 

Voice ivithout. Peace with your papistry I We 
are in the mood of the monks when they are 
merriest, and that is when they sup beef brewis 
for lanten-kail. Let your porter be speedy, or 
we will heave away. 
Voices. Huzza I huzza I 

Re-enter Veniam, with the keys. Father Am- 
JKOSE motions Roland a?id Magdale:^ to re- 



23 MKR^ 

tire behind a pillar, and VeniAm to open the 

door. Father A. advances boldly to front the 

intruders. Veniam goes off^ unlocks the door, 

and hastily runs back behind Father Ambrose. 

After a brief pause, enter slowly a clown, foU 

lowed by several others. 

1st clown, (turning to his companions.^ Keep 
back, my comrades. Let me speak to the holy 
father. 

Clowns. Aye, aye, let him speak. 
Father A. What is your pleasure ? 

1st cloton. Beef, ale, and brandywine ; or, if 
it like you better, venison and choicer liquor. 
Who's 5'our refectioner ? 

Clowns. Aye, where's the refectioner ? 

Father A. Alas ! my children, we have little 
use 
For serving men and caterers. Our refectory 
Contains but pilgrim's fare ! 

Clowns. He lies ! Down with him ! 

Mag. {rushing forward) Arouse thee, father, 
And with Saint Peter's goodly sword thou bear- 

est, 
Strike, and avenge Saint Peter's patrimony ! 
" Bind them in chains, which, by the church im- 

" posed, 
" Eternity shall rivet." 

Father A. Peace, my sister ! 

Clowns. A witch ! a witch ! the ducking stool ? 
the mill-dam ! 

1 St clown, (advances to seize Magdalen^ when 
Roland, rushing forwards, seizes him by the 
throat, raises his dagger, and assumes an attitude 
to strike. 



0? SCOTLAND. 29 

■-lol- Breathe but another sound, and by this 

weapon ! 'sJiout) 
Father J, (^stepping bettveen them) Rash youth, 
forbear ! {Roland loses his hold) 
Heaven is its own avenger ! cliildren ! friends ! 
Under our predecessors yor. have lived ; 
The worldly goods you have by them were given, 
And better gifts, the mercy of the church, 
Fasting, and prayer, and vigil, were bestowed. 
{the crated give back wiih signs of shame) 
1st clown. So I have heard the old wives say. 
Father Jl. Andjs is it grateful, seemly, honest, 
friends. 
To come with noisy violence and threats 
Against a few old men, who fill the places 
Once held by those who gave you all ? 
"We only pray to live and die in peace. 

1st clown. The queen's down, and Murray's 
up, and the order is to burn the monasteries, 
and root out the monks. So down with ihem; 
comrades. 

Clowns. Aye ! aye ! down with them ! (they 
advance) 
Enter suddenly Sir Halbert Glendinning, 
ADA:s%WooDcocKy a7id attendants armed. He 
idierpo^ses betiveeu the monks and the crowd; 
t.ie latter fall back. 
Sir Halb. Out, base-born cowards I Are you 
christian men, 
irubjects, and vassals, and presume you thus 
To deal in outrage ? 

Isi cJotni, We heard, Sir Halbert, from some 
ofyo-:: train, that you had brought orders from 
court to put down the monastery. 
3* 



30 MARY 

SirHalh. Villain, and if I had ! lacked I the 
power, 
What you, the very scum of vassalage, 
Usurp their execution ? Get you home, 
Or. by my trusty lance, to-morrow's dawn 
Shall never beam on some of you. {crowd sneak 
away. [To Father Ambrose.) Edward ! 
I joy that I have done you this slight service ; 
Scarce two hours since I came from Holyrood • 
By accident, from one of these loud brawlers, 
Woodcock picked up the news of their intent, 
And gave me instant notice, (sees Roland) Ro- 
land Graeme ! 
Met in good time ! The tale of thy dismissal 
Has reached my ear ; my lady was too hasty, 
Upon such slight offence, to banish thee : 
But what has brought you hither ? 

Father A. Brother, he came 
With sister Magdalen, his sole relation. 

Sir Halh. I have commission to send to Holy- 
rood, 
For special purposes, a trusty page, 
Thou, in thy exercises and thy breeding, 
Hast shown the sparkles of a gentle spirit, 
Therefore I will dispatch ihee to the court. 
What ? Dost thou hesitate } 

Rol. I feel. Sir Knight, 
Such gratitude as well becomes me. But 
My kind nurse, my only friend, my mother, 
Who tended me in infant helplessness, 
I may not leave her now; the frost of time 
Hath chilled her veinS; and bleached her aged 
head. 



OP SCeTLAND. 3i 

(turning to Magdalen The limbs and faculties 
ihou taughtest iheir use. 

Thou needest now to toil for thee ! protect thee ? 

No — no — I will not leave ihee ! 
Sir Halh. Who art thou ? 
Mag. Who or what I am concerns thee little ! 

Roland accepts thy offer ! Nay, my son, 

Tho' old, these bones have marpow in them yet, 

And heaven subdues with vveaivest instruments. 

Farewell, Sir Knight, and peace be with you ! 

{retires with Roland.) 

Sir Halh. (beckoning his attendants to retire) Ed- 
ward ! 

It grieves me much that 1 must hence with speed ! 

The promptest measures only can avert 

The consequence of this day's rash procedure. 

Roland must instantly to Edinburgh; 

My trusty falconer shall attend him. 

Father A. " Nay, but you'll eat with me : n 
" pilgrim's meal 

" I'll set before you, and with cheerful heart 

"We'll share the scant provisions." 
Sir Halh, " It may not be." 

Even while I linger here, some slanderous 
tongue 

May arraign, to Murray's ear, the daring man, 

Who, in the face of edicts, has presumed 

To take the abbot's office. 
Father A. Heed not that! 

I would not to the church's enemy. 

Even though my brother, owe my temporal 
safety. 

But I would shed ray heart's best blood to hear 

The church had won thee to her fold. 



32 MARY 

Sir Hal Farewell ! 
Such vain discussion only wastes the time. 
Follow me, Roland / 

[Exeimt Sir Halbert, Father Amhrose, and 
Adam Woodcock^ and train. Sir Hal- 
bert winding his bugle as he makes his 
exit. Magdalen and Roland advance. 

Mag. Farewell, my son ! Yet, ere we part, 

receive 
This sacred packet. Keep it in thy bosom ! 
And when despair and darkness thicken round 

thee, 
And all of hope and love thy soul hath cherish'd 
Seem fleeting from thee, place it in her hand 
Whom thou hast seen to-day. So now, farewell ! 
Be faithful, and the Saints protect thee ! 

Ro/, My more than mother, may the blessed 

Virgin 
Bless and defend thee ! — (^They embrace.) 

[Exit. 'Roland. 

Magdalen falls on her knees before the altar. 
The organ's swell is heard ccdling to Vespers. 
Re-enter Father Ambrose and Monks from all 
mdes, who range round the altar, and fll the 
stage while the drop scene sloicly falls. 



END OF ACT PIE-^ 



OF SCOTLAND. 33 



ACT II. 

Scene — A public room in the hostelry of St. Mi- 

chael^s, Edinhurgh several tables — persons 

seated, smoaking, drinking, i'c. — At one table, 
considerably advanced before the resty Roland 
and Adam Woodcock. 

Adam. Oh Heaven, have mercy upon us, and 
send us speedy departure from this Edinburgh! 
" We had not been half an hour within the 
gates, but you must unsheath bilbo, and take 
part in the first broil we saw." And what had 
you to do with the Seytons, or the Leslies, that 
you had never known the names of in your life 
before ? 

Rol, I have my own reasons for taking part 
with the Seytons. 

Adam. I'll wager a groat, Master Roland, 
that it is nothing but your unhallowed passion 
for that clashing of cold iron, which has as 
much charm for you as the clatter of a brass 
pan hath for a hive of bees. But if you are 
to draw sword with every man who draws 
sword — 

Rol. Well, well, Adam, I'll promise you to 
be more wary. 

Adam. And then you are peering under 
every woman's muffler and screen, as if you 
expected to find an old acquaintance. 

Rol. Tush, man, nonsense! I only wish to 



o4 jyiARV 

see what eyes these gentle hawks have got 
under their heods. 

Enter Wing-the-Wind, (hastily.) 

Win, Well found, my old friend Adam. You 
must despatch your business quick; and, with- 
in this hour, to horse for Kennaquhair and Ave- 
nel. For you, good sir, the Regent shapes 
another course, [to Rol.) 

Adam. It will fash me sorely to part from 
Master Roland ; and 1 fear he will scarcely be 
able to go through the world without my pro- 
tecting prudence, to keep his tongue within 
bounds and his iron in the sheath. 

Rol. Alas ! good Adam ! If Sir Halbert told 
me right, I shall have little use for steel in my 
new character ; and no occupation for my 
tongue, save to war with women's wit, or chant 
psalmody to frighten away the devil on winter 
nights. 

Jldam. So much the better. Master Roland. 
But come, my old boy, Michael, for *' Auld 
Lang Syne," as you Scots say, let us have a 
pottle together. 

Win. Not now, Adam ; I have other busi- 
ness ; but anon, come to the buttery, al Holy- 
rood ; and we'll empty a pitcher or two at 
parting. (Exit.) 

Adam. Tapster ! tapster ! Fetch a stoup of 
brandy-wine, knave ! We will have a can to- 
gether once more, Master Roland, and let care 
come to-morrow. 

Voice, (without.) I seek a youth, with a sprig 
of holly in his cap, black hair and black eyes, 
green jacket, and the air of a coxcomb. I have 



OF SCOTLAND. 35 

sought him through every close and alley in the 
Canongate, the fiend gore him ! 

Rol. (^starting, and rushing towards the door.) 
Catharine Seyton, as I live. (^aside,) 

Enter Catharine Seyton, disguised as a page, 

Cath. (^advancing towards Roland, who slowly 
retreats.) You, Sir Holly Top, I would speak 
with you. (Roland still retreats.) Do they 
understand a Scotch tongue in your Country. 
} said 1 would speak with you. 

Adam, (advancing between them,) What*s 
your business with my comrade, my young 
chick of the game ? 

Cath. Nothing to you, my old feeder of fal- 
cons — for I guess by your bag and gauntlet, that 
you are squire of the body to a sort of kites. 
[To Roland.) Step this way, out of that old 
eaves-dropper's hearmg. 

Rol. I think, we two are not wholly stran- 
gers to each other. 

Cath. We must have met in our dreams, 
then ; and my days are too busy to remember 
what 1 think of at nights. 

Rol. Or, apparently, to remember the faces 
you have seen from one day to another. 

Cath. Prithee, good Holly Top, put those 
eyes of thine under good government, and un- 
muffle thine ears. Let me do mine erraud^, 
and be rid of you. 

Rol. About it speedily, then, my fair incog, 
for I see other eyes than mine are upon you. 

Cath. (^taking a handsome sword from undtT 
her mantle.) This weapon 1 bring you from a 
friend. Pledge 3'Qurself, hand arid glove, net 



36 MARY 

to unsheath it but at the command, and in the 
presence, of your rightful sovereign. 

RoL By whom is it sent ? Or when will the 
opportunity be given ? Or how — 

Cath. Ask no questions ; my commission ex- 
tends not to answering them. 

RoL If 1 am offended, may I not draw in my 
own defence ? 

Cath. Not this weapon ! For what do you 
wear your own ? 

Adam, (who has approached gradually.) For 
no good ; and that 1 can witness as well as any 
one. 

Cath. Stand back, fellow, that curious face of 
thine will gain thee a buffet some day. 

Adam. A buffet, Master Malapert, best keep 
down fist ; or buffet will beget buffet. 

RoL Peace, Adam, go finish your brandy- 
wine. {To Catharine.) I accept of this wea- 
pon under the condition you impose; but if we 
are to work together in a mighty enterprize, 
S'ome openness and couHdence on your part 
will be necessary. You understand me ! Re- 
member Sister Magdalen and Dame Bridget ! 

Cath. Bridget and Magdalen ! Hark ye, Mas- 
ter Holly Top, your wits are gone on wool- 
gathering ; comfort yourself with a caudle ; 
thatch your brain-sick noddle with a woollen 
night-cap, and Heaven bless you — Don't you 
see all eyes are upon us. (^aside.) going* 

Adam. Will you drink a cup, young man, 
now you have done your errand, and listen to 
a good song ? (^sings.) 

" XUe Pope, that pagan, full of pride,"— 



OF SCOTLAND. 37 

Cath, He who speaks irreverently of the 

Holy Father, in my hearing, is the cub of a 

heretic wolf, and I'll switch him as I would a 

cur ! (TAe company rise^ a?id take their hats^ 

whispering to each other, and go 

off', one by one, as if fearing a 

fray.) 

Adam. I will break thy young pate, if thoa 

darest to lift finger to me. [sings.) 

" The Pope, that pagan, full of pride, 
<< Hath blinded"— 

Cath. (^striking him across the eyes with her 
switch.) Out on thee, heretic ! {Adam starts 
up, rubbing his eyes, to grapple 
with Catharine.) 

Rol. (^stepping betm-een.) To Catharine. Get 
)'0u gone, " quickly, there are earnest reasons 
*' why you should." 

Cath. *' There, at least, you are right— so, 
*' farewell." {Exit. 

Rol. Sit down, Adam, you know not with 
whom you deal. — She shall not escape me 
thus. By all the saints, I'll follow her steps. 
{aside.) Sit down, good Adam, and renew your 
can. {Seats Adam, who continues to rub his 
eyes, while Roland runs off.) 

Adam. By this light, which I cannot see, 
thou hast been a false friend to me. Master 
Roland ; for thou would'st neither tweak the 
monkey's nose, nor let me do it myself. What 
sayest thou to that charge ?—-W hat ! not a 
word ? " If you saw your father in a scrape, 
" I'll warrant, you would laugh at him, instead 
4 



38 MARV 

*' of lending him a hand." (Lookingup.) Why, 
he is gone ! What incarnate devil has got hold 
of you now. Tapster, my hat — where did he 
go ? God-a-mercy, I'll be close at his heels. 

(^Exit, running. 



Scene. — The Street. 

Catharine Seyton, in her disguise^ passes across 
the back of the stage. Just as she goes qff^- — 
enter Roland Gkaime, li^ho makes a full stop, 
gazing after her. 

Rol. Her step — her figure — and that match- 
less grace ! 
There's nothing masculine in't — Oh ! 'tis her- 
self ! 
My whispering heart is but a treacherous 

prompter 
If it be otherwise ! " Yet her eye shrunk not 
*' From my inquiring glances — nor her voice 
*' Betrayed confusion — nor on that velvet cheek, 
*' Where never yet the down of manhood grew, 
*' Faltered the vernal rose ! Well — well — no 

matter!" 
Ay, trip along, fair sylph ! But, by the mass ! 
You'll show young Atalanta's nimble heels 
An' I o'ertake you not. (^Exit.) 

Enter Adam Woodcock, out of breath. 
Adam. Saint Mary, SaintMagdalen, Saint Bene- 
dict, Saint Barnabas, Saint Satan, and Saint Bel- 
zebub ! — for this is enough to make one swear 
laint and devil. What can have come over the 



OF SCOTLAND 39 

youth with a miuTain ! He will have his throat cut, 
as sure as I was born at the foot of Roseberry 
Topping ! An' I could but see the top of a 
holly-sprig now, it were worth a gold tassel. 
Ah! who goes yonder? the purple page, as 
I'm a true falconer, and Master Roland after 
him ! Why, he wont surely follow him into that 
great house ! He does — now, before I can get 
to the door, he will have got his stomach full of 
that cold iron he loves so dearly. I'll never 
leave him in jeopardy, however — so here goes. 



Scene — The interior of Lord Seyton's house^ 
Enter Catharine, hastily, throwing herself iw 
to a chair. 

Cath. What can I do ? That inconsiderate 
youth ! 
I saw him close behind me as I entered. 
He little recks the dangers which beset 
That holly sprig of his. 

Enter Rolanp. 

Fly for your life ! 
How could you enter here ! where that vile 

leaf, 
Which forms your top-knot, will make enemies 
Of every one who sees you 1 (noise without,) 

Get you gone ! 
A moment more — 

Rol. And but a single moment! 
For what am I reserved ? Resolve this doubt 
With but a word, or, by my hopes ! — ^ 



40 MARV 

Caih. FIj^ quickly ! 
Horses are now in waiting to escort me 
To the Queen's prison at Lochleveu ! {noise 

increases. ^ Alas ! 
You have already staid too long. Farewell ! 
4.sk for Lord Seyton ! We shall meet again ! 

(ExiU 
{Enter Servants uith swords drawn, 
1st Serv. A spy ! a spy ! 
2d Serv. Look at the holly leaf. One of 

Avenel's retainers ! 
3d Serv. Down with him. {advancing.) 
Rol. Nay : I would speak with Lord Seyton ! 
\st. Serv. Secure the door ! 

{They advance upon him.) 

{Enter from behind Magdalen Gr^me, who 

suddenly interposes between them.) 

Mag. Vassals ! forbear ! The wretch whose 

traitorous steel 

Scars but the skin of that heaven-buckler'd 

youth — 
Wither his arm, till from the sapless bone 
The blasted flesh fall piecemeal ! 

{Servants retire.) 
(To Roland.) Thou rash youth ! 
Whence this unlpok'd-for meeting ? 
{Enter Lord Seyton.) 
Lord Sey. What means this tumult ? Sure my 
roof's protection 
Should be the stranger's surety — friend or foe— 
For hospitable greeting, or fair contest ! 
Ha ! do my eyes deceive me ? The same youth 
Who yesternight rush'd boldly to my side, 



OF SCOTLAND. 41 

When my own knaves grew fearful, and beat 

back 
The foe that pressed upon me. Give him wel- 
come ! 
Your name, young man ? 

RoL Roland Grasme, so please you : 
And in Lord Seyton's presence if 1 stand, 
I joy to tind your grace's hurt was trifling ; 
And so I take my leave. 

Lord Sey. (^to Magdalen.) Is this the youth 
For whose good fiuth and active offices 
Ambrose hath proffered doubtless guarantee ? 
And thou 

Mag. The hostage of this withered form ; 
On which frail surety hast thou not already 
Committed to his care 

Lord Sey. Enough — enough, (^taking a gold 

chain from his bonnet and putting 

it round Roland's neck.) 

Wear this, my trusty friend — thy gallant bearing 

Approves thee worthy of aSevton's friendship. 

Adam. (^ziHthout.) I saw him enter this house- 
as I have skill in falconr}', I did ; and if he is 
not forthcoming, with his own head on his 
shoulders, and without the scratch of a bilbo 
upon his skin, the Ptegent shall, for every hurt 
in his body, flay a score of you. 

Lord Sey. What noisy fellow have we here ? 

RoL My good lord ! 
It is the trusty falconer of Glendinning, 
Who hath the charge of me to Edinburgh ; 
I have but left him while I made the inquiry 
Which brought me hither. 
4* 



42 HiARV 

{Enter AdAxM Woodcock.) 
Jldam. That firebrand spirit of yours, Mister 
Roland, will surely be the death of both of us 
yet, before we separate. Cry you mercy, 
lords and ladies. — As I am a Christian I the old 
witch Madge from Avenel. (Aside.) 

Rol. Silence, good Adam ; get thee to the 
door, 
And there await me. 

Adam. And will yon come with your neck 
out of a halter? I don't see that switch-swing- 
ing, purple-cloaked knave who made so free- — 
Rol. Peace, 1 say — begone — I'll follow in- 
stantly, {leads him off to the door.) 
And now, my lord, once more I take my leave — ■ 
Links of more lasting power than these of gold — 
Alag. impetuous boy, no more ! Start not, 
my lord ! 
A young enthusiast in his sovereign's cause, 
He lack'd no chain to bind him to her fortunes, 
Save that which loyal love and true devotion 
Hath woven round his heart ! — 

LordSey. Farewell — success attend thee. 

{Exit, 
Mag. {in an undertone.) Another word, 
And thou hadst blasted all my budding hopes ! 
Think not of love, nor soul-subduing pleasure, 
While Scotland claims the vigour of thine arm, 
And Scotland's Queen an undivided heart— 
Or basely perish in the sordid flame 
Thy rebel passions have engendered. Fare- 
well ! 

[Exeunt severally. 



OF SCOTLAND. 43 

BcENE— i'.^ chamber. Queen Mary discovered re- 
dining on a sofa. Lady Fleming seated at her 
feet ; and Catharine Seyton advanced towards 
the front f and sitting at her harp, 

SONG. 
Tune — " Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doun." 

1. 

Ah '. wliat is Summer's gaudy gear, 

Or beamy morn, to captive e'e ?— 
Or music to the prison'd ear ? — 

Save that wild cadence — Liberty ! 
The orient sun, with golden light, 

May stud the palace of the free, 
But noon-day gleams are dull as night 

To her who weeps for liberty. 

2. 

Young Spring hath not a flower to charm, 

Nor tint of grace, nor breath of glee, 
Nor smile to cheer, nor ray to warm 

The heart bereft of liberty. 
For freedom is the sun — the dew — 

Spring's life, and Summer's fragrant sigh j 
We riot in its radiant hue, 

And when its glory sets — we die ! 

Mary, (advancing.') So from his wiry prison 
the poor bird 
Warbles his lament to departed freedom ! 
And thou, my youthful maiden, little knowest 
What 'tis to drag on life from day to day, 
Breathing and taking back the breath of bond- 
age !— ^ 
To pine and wither 'midst unwholesome walls, 
Shut out from all the gay and busy world, 



44 MARY 

And sight or sound of pleasure ; — '' to receive, 
" 'Stead of the greetings of unpurchased love, 
" Which call the aflections forth, as summer suns 
*' Extract rich beauties from the sordid earth, 
" A courtesy constrained and cold, that blights 
" The heart's young blossoms, and withlicy touch 
*' Congeals the fount of feeling !" 
Cath. My gracious Q,ueen ! 
Mary. I know what thou would'st say, my 

girl ; there's love, 
And truth, and fix'd devotion in thy look. 
Thou deem'st the presence of thy Queen can 

make 
A palace of a prison. But, alas ! 
When from the surface of that downy cheek 
The bleaching hand of stern captivity 
Shall pluck the rose — and the sad, secret tears 
Imparted to thy pillow, shall have worn 
Deep furrows where the sickly lillies shed 
A morbid paleness — the pulses of that heart 
Will beat to graver measure, and experience. 
Outstripping sadly the fast foot of time. 
Lead on such cares, as now thou reck'st not of. 
Cath. And care, my royal mistress, shall be 

sweet 
As ever joy has been, can I but turn 
The envenom'd arrows from my queen. 

Alary. Good girl ! 
If, by the ebb of this ill-fortuned tide, 
Which for the present whelms me, Scotland's 

queen 
Should reassume her throne, thy ardent love 
And services shall be remembered. 

(^Bugle sounds.) Ha! 



OF SCOTLAND. 45 

What may this mean ? {a knock at the door.) 

some unexpected evil ! 
Give entrance to it, Fleming! 
Enter Douglas, with great dejection of look and 
manner. 

Well, Douglas, 
Those sorrowing looks of thine are gloomy 

heralds, 
Whose silent eloquence outruns thy tongue ! 
What means that shrill alarm ? 

Doug, So please your majesty — commission- 
ers 
From Holyrood were presently expected. 
And this loud summons tells us of their arrival. 
Mary. Commissioners ! From Holyrood ! 
George Douglas ! 
Whence comes it that the Queen was not in- 
formed 
Her subjects sought her presence ? 

Doug. Madam ! 
Scarce half an hour ago, the lady mother 
Gave me such intimation, which the speed 
Of their arrival hath overtaken me. 
Even in the act of bearing to my Queen. 
A page, just set ashore, attends without, 
To do your royal pleasure. 

Mary. Admit him ! 
But see ! our lady hostess, who well wots 
How much we love her presence, hath out- 

stripp'd 
Our slow permission. 
Enter Lady Lochleven, followed by Roland 

Gr^me. 
We appreciate duly 



46 MARY 

The favor of this, unrequested visit— 
This unannounc'd intrusion on the hour 
We used to set apart for our devotion. 

Lady L. I grieve my presence should offend 
your grace. 
I bring this young addition to your train ; 
And tho' the day be early, yet I deem'd 
The sight of such a spruce and smooth-faced 

minion 
Might well extenuate my fault. 

Mary. Doubtless, 
Mary of Scotland must admire the love 
Which gives the daughter of so many kings, 
Herself a Queen anointed, suite so numerous, 
As these two waiting women and a page 1 
Add but an usher and two serving men. 
And we shall have attendance which may rival 
The train of any country dame in Fife : 
The kindness of my nobles — or my sovereigns— 
So 1 must call them — bends me to the earth ! 
Lady L. Perhaps at some cost of policy, 
your grace, 
This new indulgence has been granted you. 
Mary, Or rather, at some cost to our poor 
hostess. 
My selfish rapture made me overlook 
The trouble and the charges which will fall 
On our good lady and her house, forsooth, 
From this othcious swelling of our train ! 
Clothe not that gentle brow with frowns, fair 

dame ; 
Pertaining to the crown are goodly manors, 
From which your duteous son and my kind bro- 
ther 



OF SCOTLAND. 47 

Will give large bounty, e'er thro' lack of means 
The term of Mary's visit to your castle 
Should find an hour's subtraction. 

Lady L. The Douglasses 
Have ever known their duties to the state, 
Aye, and discharged them duly, even when dan- 
ger 
And irksomeness attended the performance, 
Regardless of reward. 

Mary. Nay, dear Lochleven, 
Be not too scrupulous ; accept a manor ! 
What should support the sovereign and her 

court. 
But her crown lands ? and such a duteous son 
As Murray's Earl, will not disgrace his mother 
By insufficient bounty ! But I trifle ! 
Leave us, good hostess : we require some mo- 
ments 
To fit us for this interview. 

(^Exeunt Lady Lochleven and Douglas.) 
[To Roland.) Young man ! 
Thou, too, hast left some happy hearth, made 

cheerful 
By kindling smiles, and looks that spoke content, 
To share a prison's gloom, and waste thy youth 
Where joy inhabits not. 

Rol. So please your highness ! 
All I have known of pleasure, is the name. 
My memory chronicles no hours of joy 
On which to found regrets ; and for the future, 
If these weak sinews and this body's service 
Can but acquit the love I owe my Queen, 
This day begins my calendar of hfe. 



48 MARY 

Mary. Well said, my page : I like the genUe 
spirit 
That speaks throughout thy bearing and thy 

words. 
Thou art my chamberlain — my sole attendant : 
Wilt thou obey my orders ? 
RoL To death, my Queen ! 
Mary. Guard then our chamber door : some 
slight adjustment 
Our dress requires ; We would not rebel rude- 
ness 
Should prematurely break upon our presence. 
RoL Madam, no foot shall pass the threshold's 
limit, 
Save o'er this body. 

Mary. Attend me, Fleming ! 
Catharine, bring thou thy harp : its soothing 

tones 
May tranquillize my spirit. 

[Exunt Mary and Fleming.) 
Rol, (j3s he carries the harp towards the cham-) 
bar.) 
Well niet, fair maid ! Now, by my hope of bliss, 
We have soon reached the height of our pre- 
ferment. 
And may coo amorous phrases at each other, 
Like two caged turtle doves ! 

Catk. Yes, worthy sir ! 
In separate cages, tho'. But prithee, speed ! 
Our royal mistress waits my coming. 
RoL Only a word or too ! 
Cath. Another time ! 
We shall have space enough to use our tonguei? 



I 



OF SCOTLAND. 49 

Before we leave this place. Hark ! Fleming 

calls ! 
Give me the harp. 

(^Exit Catharine.) 
RoL My beauteous Queen and mistress ! 
Already in this bosom, every spark 
Of generous manhood kindles for thy service. 
But hold awhile : this fiery zeal of mine 
111 suits the character of my commission. 
To spy upon her actions — note her words — 
And hid ming eyes make comment on her looks — 
And these with treacherous diligence report 
To those who seek her life. Such is the service 
Expected at my hands : to them or her 
I must prove false : disloyal to my Queen ; 
Or to base traitors, traitor; Whate'erthis blood. 
Or wheresoever fountain'd, I'll not stain it 
By meanly catering for the gorge of treason. 
'I reason ! — What is it! Is it treason to oppose 
A sovereignty which rules by desolation ? 
Mary has powerful foes : whether her guilt, 
Or her misfortunes have created them, 
1 may noljudge ; yet, ere I list myself — (Catha- 
rine heard without, singing, ac- 
companied. Roland listens.^ 

" My maids come to my flressing bower, 

" A.id dock my nut-brown hair, 

" Where'er ye laid a plait before, 

" Look ye lay ten times niair.'' 
My charming mavis ! thou art lost to me 
If 1 forsake the Queen, and one sweet smile- 
One whisper of the heart from thee, repays 
Ten thousand dangers. Enough, I am resolved ! 
(^A loud knocking at the door.^ 
Lord Lind. {ixithout.') Undo the door within ' 



.jO MARY 

RoL At whose command ? 
Who claims admittance to the Queen of Scot- 
land ? 
Lord Lin d. Fool! on your peril, open; or, 
hy Heaven ! 
Lindesay will force admission. 

Sir R. Mel. (Without.) Nay, be patient ! 
Let the Queen know her faithful counsellor, 
Sir Robert Melville, asks an interview. 

RoL Your Message shall be sped. — (Roland 
taps at the door of Jhe Cluceii's 
apartment^ speaks wiihih^ and re- 
tujminir, gives admission to the 
coinmissioners.) 
Enter Lord Lindesay, Sir Robert Melville, 
Lord RuTHVEN, and Douglas. 
Rol. {To Melville.) Witness Sir Robert Mel- 
ville, had the Queen 
Denied her acquiescence, not a roan 
Had entered here, save o'er my bleeding corse. 
Lord Lind. Silence, loud boy ! Where is 

your trifling mistress ? 
Rol. The Queen is here. 
Enter Queen Mary, Ladij Fleming, and Catha- 
rine Sevton. 
MarTj. We fear we have detained you, noble 
sirs ! 
You wear a formidable sword, Lord Lindesay ; 
A strange court ornament ! Feared you to meet 
Some giant enemy within these walls ? 

Lord Lind. No Madam, no ! But this good 
blade of mine 
Hath courtier's privilege ; for, before this day, 
It hath disturbed the presence of a Stuart. 



OF SCOTLAND. 51 

Mary. How so, my lord ? 
Lord Lind. Your grace shall shortly hear. 
Douglas, the Earl of Angus wore this sword, 
When from your grandsire's presence, the 

third James, 
He dragged that servile herd of sycophants, 
Whose corses afterwards, on Lawler Bridge, 
From their tall gibbets pluckM the carrion 

crows. 
With this same weapon, near the brook of Fala, 
He sheared the courtier's thigh, whose slander- 
ous tongue 
To James the fourth traduced him, lopping the 

limb, 
As easily as the early half-grown twig 
Is severed from the sappling ! 

Mary. 'Tis a tale 
Fit for a lady's ear I But pray go on. 
How pass'd a blade of such illustrious daring 
To Lindesay, from the House of Douglas ? Me- 

thinks 
They deera'd too lightly of it, to let pass 
So choice a relic ! 

Sir R. Mel. (Jiasti.ly.'^ Nay, Madam, ask it not 1 
And you. my lord, for shame, reply not to it. 
Lord Lind. 'Tis time the truth should reach 

her. Know then, Madam, 
When Bothwell's Earl, that foul and murderous 

traitor, 
To personal combat challeng'd any noble 
Who dared accuse him, gifted with this sword 
By noble Morton, I defied tb.e wretch. 
And Heaven so help me, had he kept his word, 
This trusty steel so well had carved his body. 



52 MARY 

That the carnivorous birds and hungry hounds 
Had found the morsels suited to their throats. 
Mary. Had Blary Stuart worn her father's 
sword, 
The boldest of the rebels on that day 
Should not have lack'd a foe. But come, my 

Fleming:, 
Unless Lord Lindesay find some weightier 

matter 
To treat us with, than these great feats of Bell- 

the-Cat, 
And of the deeds himself proposed to do, 
Had time and tide so will'd, we will retire, 
And you shall read to me the doughty doings 
Of some enchanted knight, at whose bright 

sword 
Armies of monsters melted into air, 
Or hardened into statues. 

Lord Lind. Tarry, Madam ! 
I did not seek this interview to tempt 
The sharpness of your wit. The secret coun- 
cil 
Has charged us with a more important errand. 
Mary. Then with your favour. Lords, I'll 
sit ! Proceed ! 
Sue you for pardon ? Do you bring petition 
That now I will resume my rightful throne, 
And let the cherub mercy check the arm 
Of threateningjustice ? 

Lord Ruth. Madam, it pains me 
To speak harsh truths : — we come to offer par- 
don — 
Not implore it. Affix your signature 
To these considered instruments, by which, 



OF SCOTLAND. 53 

In favour of your son, you make demission 
Of crown and governnieut. Thus you will 

soothe 
The troubled aspect of the times, and spare 
Yourself the consequence of rash rejection. 

Alary. And is this all my loving subjects ask ? 
Are they content that 1 resign a crown, 
By birthright mine, to an unconscious infant, — 
A twelvemonth's tenant of this constant world, — 
Fling down my sceptre, and take up a distaff? 
No, this is far too little ! Good, my lord ! 
What says the other scroll ? 

Lord Ruth. By this your grace 
Appoints your trusty kinsman, tirst in blood. 
And the most honoured and honourable 
Of all your subjects, James the Earl of Murraj^ 
The kingdom's regent, till the infant King 
Arrive at age discreet. 

Alary, (^clapping her haiids, and then hiding her 
face.) Alas ! Alas ! 
Out of my brother's quiver comes the arrow — 
And from my brother's bow ! Was it for this 
I look'd for his return ? 

Lord Ruth. I pray your answer. 

Alary. Traitor. But ibr my mercy, thy base 
head 
Had long since stood upon the City gates ! 

Lord Ruth. Let not my presence goad you to 
your ruin ! 
The death of Rizzio cost our house its head, 
My father, worthier than a thousand slaves 
Like that false minion, perished in his exile. 

(Mary -weeps.) 

Sir R. Mel. This is too harsh, my lords ! 
5* 



64 I9ARY 

Mary. Silence, Sir Robert. 
I grieve that traitors should behold me weep. 

(^wiping her eyes.^ 
But tell me, haughty Lords, what earthly war- 
rant 
Can pluck the crown from the anointed brow. 
Lord Lind. Your own misgovernment hath, 
made the land 
A scene of bloody brawl and endless contest. 
Brother by brother falls, and son by sire : 
Rebellion, slaughter, exile and oppression, 
Have marked your rule ! Your abdication, ma- 
dam. 
Is DOW a debt you owe your suffering country. 
Mary. Lindesay, you spake not with such 
scurril taunt 
On yon fair summer eve, when at the butts, 
In gay Saint Andrew's garden, we essayed 
Our skill in archery together ; then 
Thou wert my friend, and vowedst to be my 
soldier. 
Lord Lind. [affected.) Ay, then were all 
men pleased to play the fool, 
So it might win your smile ; but gayer men, 
And better courtiers jostled me aside, 
And made my awkwardness their ridicule. 
Mary. I grieve, my lord, if by my gay de- 
meanour 
I gave offence ; through idle gaiety 
I never shall offend again. 

Lord Ruth. Madam, 
Our time is wasting. Pray yon, make decision ! 
Mary. What, on the instant ? Not a moment 
given 



OF SCOTLAND. OO 

On such momentous issue to determine ? 
What do you ofler in exchange for crown, 
Wealth, subjects, state and power ? 

Lord Ruth. We give you pardon, 
And time and means in holy sohtude, 
To make your peace with Heaven. 

Mary. If I refuse — 

Lord Ruth. For murder and adulter}^ — 

Sir R. J\Id. Forbear, my lord ! 
You, and my Lord of Lindesay, for some se- 
conds, 
Retire, while 1 with gentler language strive. 
To win her grace's ear. 

Lord Lind. So let it be ; 
For half an hour within the hall we'll wait. 

(Exeunt Lindesay and Ruthven.) 
(Flesung, Catharine, and Sir Robert, kneel 
to Mary to sooth her.) 

Mary. Kneel not to me. Sir Robert! Mock 
me not 
With vain, unmeaning homage I Why stay ycfu 

here, 
W^ith the deposed-^condemned ? 

Sir R. J\JeL So help me Heaven, 
My heart is true as when your highness filled 
Ti)e throne of Scotland. 1 am old, indeed. 
And cannot, like the Seytons, wield a sword, 
To do you service I — 

Mary. Oli ! were a Seyton here. 
Whose wisdom, truth, and valour, might assist 

me ! 
Were there but one, whose arm at Mary's call. 
Would bare his trusty sword ! — 



56 MARY 

Rol. Madam, there is ! (Drawing his sword, 
from wJiich falls a scroll.) 

Cath. (^picking up the scroll.) Even at your 
call, my liege, a Seyton's wisdom 
Attends with proft'ered service. 

Marij. (^reads.) 'Tis so, indeed ! 
This is Lord Seyton's writing, and he counsels 
That I submit myself, and sign the deeds, 
Which being thus by forceful means obtained, 
Will lose their obligation, when affairs 
May justify the exposition! — My page, 
How came you by this parchment ? 

Rol. So please your grace ! 
There's one beside you, who, methinks, could 

better 
Expound the riddle to your highness. 

Marij. Catharine ! 
Knows't thou of this ? 

Cath. Why some such sword as that, 
An aged devotee, one Sister Magdalen, 
Entrusted to my care, to give the youth, 
Lest, being committed to inferior hands, 
It might not reach its destiny. My liege, 
Thus far I know, but of the writing nothing. 
Save that it is my father's. 

Sir R. Mel. My dear mistress ! 
He has advised you well Yield to the tide. 
Such rapid strides has treason made already, 
We well may fear the worst. 

Mary. You terrify me — 
Surely no more assassinations ! Oh no ! 
They would not dare — 

Sir R. Mel. They talk of trial. Proofs, 



OF SCOTLAND. 57 

And innocence itself, must sometimes stoop 
To foul-tongued calumny. Oh be advised ! 

Rol. And, if it please my Q,ueen, I will away, 
And at the courts of England, France, and Spain, 
With fearless tongue, assert the ruling motives 
Which influenced your compliance ; and should 

any, 
With slanderous scepticism greet my errand. 
This arm and this good sword shall write the lie, 
In bleeding characters, on his foul corse. 

Mary, (^giving him her hand to kiss.) My 
page, I thank thee : but the rather now, 
As I perforce must sign these instruments, 
Serve me by witnessing that not from duty. 
Nor of my own inclining, do I yield ; 
But from the fear of evils which may follow, 
Should 1 refuse. Call in these Lords again ! 

(^Exit Roland.) 

SirR. Mel. Your Grace acts wisely. 

Mary. That the event will prove. 
Re-enter Roland, Lord Lindesay, and Lord 

RUTHVEN. 

Lord Ruth. Madam, we come for your reply. 

Mary. My Lords ! 
Were I on yonder shore, on a fleet jennet. 
And ten true knights around me, this poor hand 
Should sign my sentence of eternal ruin, 
Rather than this concession ; but a prisoner, 
Circled with walls and waters, I must bend 
Where opposition will avail me not. 
But be it witnessed 'tis to force alone 
I thus submit myself. 

Lord Lind. (^Rous;hly grasping Mary^s arm.) 
Madam, beware ! 



58 MARY 

Think e'er you strive in useless opposition 
To us who are the stronger ! 
Lord Ruth. Shame, my lord ! 
Sir R. Mel. This is too brutal ! 
(LiNDESAY looses his hold., and Mary hares her 
arm.) 
Mary. My lord, you might have spared this 
woman's arm 
Proof so impressive of your mightier strength ; 
But well— too well it indicates the terms 
On which this business rests. Bear witness all, 
That in obedience to the Lord of Lindesay, 
Who hath imprinted his sign manual here, 
I now subscribe these instruments. 

(57te signs.) 
Lord Lind. {in an undertone.) I meant no 
violence ; but women's flesh 
Is delicate as new fallen snow. 

{J\lary rises, curtsies, and is about to 
withdraw. Lindesay suddenly ad- 
vances, drops on his knee, kisses 
her hand and rises.) 
Lady f 
I kneel to Mary Stuart, that most noble 
Of all Heaven's creatures ; — not to the Queen 
of Scotland ! 
Mary. The Queen and Mary Stuart, rebel 
Lord, 
Both pity and forgive thee ; leagued with trai- 
tors, 
Thou art a good blade in a ruffian's hands : — 
Farewell, thou smoother, deeper villain, Ruth- 
ven ! — 



OF SCOTLAND. 59 

^lelville, farewell! Mays't thou find wealthier 

Diasters 
To give thee richer bribe, than Mary Stuart I 
Douglas, inform your grand dame, we desire 
To spend the remnant of the day alone. 
Roland, some packages which lie at Kinross 
Demand your care. Douglas will tell you fur- 
ther ! 
Farewell to ail ! 

(^Exeunt 3Iary, Lady Fleming, and 
Catiiar-ine, at one door, and at the 
other, RuTHVEN, Ltndesay, Mel- 
ville, Douglas, and Roland.) 



Scene — A village revel — the lake behind — num- 
bers of rustics passing to and fro — Doctor Luke 
LuNDiN acting as master of the ceremonies, 
and busying himself with his white wand. 

Lun. (^calling to him an emaxiaied rustic.) 
How do you, honest friend ? 

Rus. Very weakly, sir, since I took the elec- 
tuary ; it neighboured ill with the two spoon- 
fuls of pease porridge, and the kirn milk. 

Lun. Pease porridge and kirn milk ! Have 
you been under medicine these ten years, and 
keep your diet so ill ? Next morning take the 
electuary by itself, and touch nothing for six 
hours. 

Rus. I will, sir. [retires.) 

Lun. {to a lame rustic.) So ho, there, Saun- 
ders Darlet, you have been ill, I hear. 

Rus. Just got the turn, as I was thinking (t> 



60" MARY 

send to your honour, and I am brnwly now 
again ; — it was nae great thing that ailed me. 

Lun. Hark you, sirrah ! Ilemember you 
owe the laird four stones of barley meal, and 
a bow of oats. Send no more such kain fowls 
as you sent last season. They looked as wretch- 
edly as patients dismissed from a plague hospi- 
tal. Let me see, there is some hard money 
owing besides. 

Hus. 1 was thinking, sir, my best way would 
be to come down to your honour, and take 
your advice yet, in case my disorder should re- 
turn. 

. Lun. Do so, then, knave, {rustic retires^ — and 
boat approaches the shore and lands Roland 
Gra:me. Lundin advances to receive himS) The 
freshness of the morning upon you, fur sir! 
You are sent, I warrant, to see if we observe 
here the regiuien which her good ladyship hath 
prescribed, h)r escliewing all superstitious cere- 
monies and idle aniiilies in our revels. 

Rol. I have no such charge, doctor. 

Lun. Call me not doctor, since I have laid 
aside my furred gown and bonnet, and retired 
me into this temporality of chamberlain. 

Rol. Oh, Sir ! the cowl makes not the monk, 
neither the cord the friar. We have all heard 
of the cures performed by doctor Lundiu. 

Lnn. Toys, sir, trifles ! Marry, heaven sent 
its blessing — and this 1 must say, better fashion- 
ed medicines have brought fewer patients 
through. But will it please you enter my poor 
lodging, and take your morning's cup ; for what 
saith the school of Salerno. 



OP SCOTLAND. 61 

Poculura mane haustum 
Restaurat naturam exhaustam. 

RoL Your learning is too profound for me, 
and so would your draught be likewise, I fear. 

Lun. Not a whit, fair sir — a cordial cup of 
sack, impregnated with wormwood is the best 
anti-pestilential draught ; and, to speak the 
truth, the pestilential miasmata are now very 
rife in the atmosphere. 

Rol. 1 heed them not. A fter some packages, 
which should have arrived for the lady Mary, I 
have come to day. 

Lnn. Truly, fair sir, they should be here ; 
but John Auchtermuchty, our common carrier, 
hath not yet arrived. They shall be sought for, 
and put into your boat. [A tall old woman, in 
a high-crowned hat and muffler^ passes by^ and 
fixes her eyes on Roland for a moment.^ By the 
soul of Celsus, it is old mother Nicneven her- 
self: — she hath come to beard me within mine 
own bounds, {she goes o^.) Fire and faggot 
shall one day be her welcome. 

RoL In the name of Heaven, who is she ? 

Lun. Men call the old hag a prophetess — " I 
" do scarce believe she could foretel when a 
" brood of chickens will chip the shell. Men 
"' say she reads the heavens — my black bitch 
*' knows as much of them when she sits baying 
*' the moon. Men pretend the old wretch is a 
*' sorceress, a witch, and what not" — Inter nos^ 
I will not contradict a rumour which may bring 
her to the stake. 

Rol. Why would you harm her, if you belie'^ 
her guiltless. 

6 



Bt MARY 

Luji. Because, fair sir, she hath a heavier 
guilt upon her ; inasmuch as she haunts the 
chambers of the sick, giving them trash of herbs 
and drinks and cordials, thereby disturbing the 
regular progress of a learned and artificial cure, 
with her syrups and juleps, and my lady What- 
you-call-um"s powder, and worthy dame Tra- 
shem's pill. But no more on't. Mother Nic- 
neven and I shall meet one day, and she shall 
know there is danger in dealing with the doctor. 

Rol. It is a true word, and many have found 
it so. 

Lun. Amuse yourself, fair sir, with looking 
on the sports. I must be showing myself abroad. 
[Mixes "With the throng. A damsel, closely muffled^ 
approaches Roland, who looks at her earnestly. 
She beckons him, and he follows her. 

Rol. What wouldst ihou, my fair damsel? 
Whither dost thou lead me ? — 1 would I could 
see her form or face, (^aside.) 

Girl. Follow, and you shall learn. 

Rol. [aside) There was something in the 
tone of the voice like Catharine's, yet it can- 
not be. At all risks, I'll follow her. Tell me 
your name and lineage. May I not crave as 
much ? 

Girl. You may, but it is a question whether 
or no I shall answer you. 

Rol. Perhaps I know more of you than you 
think. 

Girl. Prove it. 

Rol. The tirst letter of your name may be 
S. and the last N.— 

Girl. Admirably guessed — go on ! 



OF SCOTLAND. 63 

RoL You can switch men's eyes out of their 
heads as well as hearts out of their bosoms. 
Remove your muffler. 

Girl. I may not. 

Rol. Then let me follow you to some se- 
questered place. 

Girl, You dare not. 

Rol. How ? Dare not ! 

Girl. No. 1 go to Mother Nicneven's ; and 
she is witch enough to rein the horned devil, 
with a red silk thread for a bridle, and a rowan- 
tree switch for a whip. 

Rol. Go on ; I'll follow you ! 

Girl. Let it be at some distance, then ! (^Exit. 

Rol. Am I always to be the dupe of mystery 
and witchcraft. At any risk, Til sift this secret 
to the bottom. {Exit, 



Scene — Interior of Mother Nicneveii^s cottage. 
Magdalen Gr^me, disguised as Mother A7c- 
neven, seated on a stool, and m-atching a de- 
caying fire. She clasps her hands, and bends, 
as in devotion. 

Mag. " Droop and decay, thou subtile ele^ 

ment ; 
*' New fuel will relight thy faded embers, 
'* And reassure thy brightness : but what food, 
*' What kindling touch, can reinspire, once 

quench'd, 
*' The flame of life in this unconscious bosom. 
*' We are but pilgrimers on Time's long waste, 



64 MARY 

«* And few, and scatttered wide, the resting 

places, 
** Between the cradle and the tomb. Hard 

care, 
" Travel, and withering woes, and midnight 

vigils 
" Have sped me on my way. I see the goal, 
" And long to reach it ! — But,'* why comes he 

not! 
Surely, the rustic girl I set to lure him 
Hath not deceived me. No, I hear her step. 
Enter from door behind^ the girL 
Girl. He's close behind me. 
Mag. Away, good wench, away. (^Exit girl. 
Enter Roland Grj:me, hastily looking around 
him. 
RoL She has out-witted me, by all my hopes. 
Mag. {rising and advancing.) What seek'st 

thou here ? 
Rol. {looking earnestly at her, as she takes cff 
the hat which hid her face.) 
1 seek — 1 seek — angels and saints — it is — 
Mag. Yes, Roland, the decayed — devoted — 
feeble. 
But never-fainting ! — tho' with watching spent, 
Still doom'd to watch and wander. Silly boy ! 
Let not thine eyes chase shadows ; her thou 

seekest 
Is but a rustic instrument instructed 
To bring thee hither. 

Rol. But, resolve me, mother ; 
How do 1 see you here ? The dame Nicneven 
And Magdalen — 

Mag. Are one ! Since rebel power 



OF SCOTLAND. 65 

Immur'd our Q,ueen within yon dark gray walls, 

Here I have fix'd my home. If I have toil'd 

By day, by night, when the red sunbeam 
scorch'd. 

Or midnight dews fell round ; barefoot and 
lonely, 

If I have struggled thro' the thorny glen, 

Or crossed the tedious hills, which lie between 

Kinross and Kennaquhair — it was to serve 

My earthly mistress. 

Rol. " You bewilder me ! 

*' Could you have called up knights at every 
step, 

*' Horsed and accoutred, lances in their hands, 

*' And courage in their hearts, it might have 
served her. 

** If woman's breath could batter down these 
towers, 

*' Break iron locks, bid massive gates unclose 

*' And yield their prisoner ; or, still harder 
task, 

*' Melt the heart-hardness of Lochleven's mis- 
tress, — 

<« Then you might serve her ! 

Mag. *' Those iron locks may break ; 

" Those gates unclose ; armed and accoutred 
knights 

*' Rush to the service yet, while the foul trai- 
tors 

" Dream on in false security !" 
Rol. What mean you ? 
Mag. The hour is come, when I will speak 
no more 

6* 



66 MARY 

In dark and mystic phrase. Know then, my 

son, 
The friends of Scotland's sovereign are in arms, 
And now on thee, the orphan page, the eyes 
Of marshall'd armies turn. 

Rol. On me, my mother! 

Mag. Ay, on thee ! for this, these shrivelled 
arms, 
When, to the howling of the winter's wind. 
The forests shook their desolated limbs, 
Cradled and cberish'd thee ! Child of my hope, 
Now my reward is near. 

Rol. You forget, my mother. — 
Bound, as I am, in duty and in love, 
To do all lawful service you, my Q,ueen, 
Or Scotland's weal demands ; I cannot — dare 

not 
Betray my trust. 

Mag. " Then see thy sovereign perish! 
*' Nay, at the bidding of the heartless traitors, 
*' With whom thou leaguest, present the poi- 

son'd chalice, 
" And be thyself her executioner. False boy ! 
" So hast thou turned my hope to black despair, 
*' My wine to gall, my bread of joy to wo, 
" As thou hast trampled on my heart's best 

wishes, 
" Tread my gray hairs beneath thy feet.'* 

Rol. " By Heaven ! 
" Sooner than scathe shall fall on her or thee, 
" This arm of mine shall prove I wear a sword 
" For other purpose than an empty show." 

Mag. As thou esteemest an honourable fame, 



OP SCOTLAND. 67 

All good men's prayers, and the approving 

smile 
Of youthful beauty— HQcre than these, my son, 
Would'st thoii obtain the love of Catharine 
Seyton — 
Rol. Catharine! — Oh, no! Down, down, am- 
bitious heart ! 
What deed can elevate a nameless man-* 
A foundling — child of charity — to mate 
With high-born maids ? Would'st thou pre- 
vail, my mother. 
Dispel the gloomy mystery of my birth, 
And free me from the cold, inglorious load 
Which vveighs my struggling wishes to the 
earth. 
Mag. What said'st thou, stubborn boy ? — 
Would 1 prevail ? 
The sword thou wear'st ivill testify the vow 
By which 'twas purchased. For thy birth, suf- 
fice it, 
When the fit time arrives, thou may'st be found 
Companion meet for Scotland's loftiest born ! 
But, who comes here ! 

Enter Father Ambrose, habited as a man-at- 
arms. 
Father A. " Salve /" Save vou, my sister ! 
Mag. ''Salveter 

Fattier A. I sought you, sister Magdalen, and 
this youth ! 
(To Roland.) Dost thou not bear a packet from 
George Douglas ? 
Rol. 1 do ; but may to none deliver it, 
Without some token of his right to ask it. 



tB MARY 

Father J. 'Tis well! The packet which I 
ask, my son, 
Is the report irom Douglas to his father. 
Will that suffice ? 

Rol. [giving the packet.) It will : (^Father *i. 
breaks it open.) What have 1 done! 
Should I have erred in my commission. 

Alag. Peace ! 
Murmuring, suspecting, ever ! 

Father A. Heaven be praised ! 
All's well ! The time holds for to-morrow- 
night! 
Bo!. What time? what holds ? have 1 beea 

duped — deceived ? 
Father A. You have my word and token ! 
Rol. A stranger's word — 
It may be, too, a surreptitious token ! 
1 must have better surety, or, by Heaven — 
Mag. Rash boy! here, by the love 1 bore thee 
once. 
With my own hand I could destroy thee — 
Father A. Be patient, sister ! Roland, look on 
me ; 
Are these the features of a perfect stranger ? 
Does this wan forehead, furrowed deep with 

care — 
This voice, whose wonted greeting or reproof 
Cheer'd thy dull zeal, and check'd thy frequent 

errors — 
Does this changed, faded form, in its swift ruin, 
Nor line, nor time retain, nor corporeal motion, 
That wakes some sweet responsive chord of 

memory — 
Some indisUnct relationship of heart 



OF SCOTLAND. 6^9 

Rol, I am bewildered ! Your manner, voice 
and mien 
Recall the image — no — no — that cannot be — 
Plumed casque, and sword and buckler, wore 

nor wielded 
That holy man, (^Father A. takes off" his casque.) 

Martyrs and saints of Heaven ! 
(^Dropping on his knee.) My spiritual father, bless 
— oh bless your son ! 
Father A. Arise, my son ! "the Abbot of Saint 
Mary's, 
When he resigned the mitre and the staff. 
Gave back to Heaven the delegated powers 
Those outward tokens symbol'd. Yet, my son, 
The blessing of an exile fall upon thee. 
RoL Resolve me, father, whence this suddea 
change ? 
Already is the sheepfold violated, 
The shepherd smitten, and his scanty flock 
Driven forth and scattered ? 

Father A. List awhile, my son ! 
Scarce had our sister Magdalen and yourself 
LeftKennaquhair, and scarce the hollow chime 
Pealed thro' the shattered aisles the midnight 

hour, 
When Morton's minions came. My brother's 

power. 
Too weak to turn aside the desolation, 
Opened a way for my escape ; and now 
The forest satyr and the owl inhabit 
Saint Mary's sinctuary. 

Mag. Eternal vengeance 
Wither the desolating fiends ! 
Rol. Monsters I {apause.) 



70 MAR? 

But, father, solve the mystery of the packet ; 
For whom was it designed ? 

Father A. For me, my son ! {Roland starts.) 
Is not my word sufficient surety now ? 

RoL Then George of Douglas is 

Father A. The Queen's true friend. 
Rol, And to his father false ! 
Father. A. To traitors false ! 
Foul-tongued, and fouler-hearted traitors ! False 
Where truth were treason! Roland — by the 

faith 
Which leads the erring spirit up to Heaven ! — 
The orisons for thee these lips have uttered ! — 
The memory of those moments oft and precious 
When I have pour'd instruction in thine ear ! — 
By the bright lingering spark which yet sur- 
vives 
Of friendship's sacred flame \ — ^-At Mary's 

voice — 
At Scotland's cry — unsheathe a willing sword, 
And lend thy arm to cleave rebellion's crest. 
Mag. Listen to her, who, save a mother's 
throes, 
For thee, hath all a mother's travail known. 
By all the love I bore thee, when fierce hate 
Pursued thine infant life ! " By the long wan- 
derings — 
«* The drops of passion's agony — the groans — 
" The weary hours of wakefulness and pain — 
^' Thirst — hunger — faintnesses — which thoa 

hast caused me !" 
Stand for thy Queen ! 

Rd. Enough — enough, my mother ! 
Enough, my father ! Here, before high Heaven, 



OF SCOTLAND. 71 

This arm of mine, and this my trusty sword, 
I give to Mary's service I 

Mag. (^embracing him.) My darling son ! 
My pride ! my glorious recompence ! — Away ! 
Waste not the precious hours of preparation ! 
Prayer, vigil, fasting, are assigned to me, 
And I would to my task. (Exi^. 

RoL What task is mine ? 

Father A. Pursue her not, my son, but follow 
me. 
I will unfold our plans as we proceed ; 
The day grows old apace, and your delay, 
Too long protracted, will excite suspicion. 
Come on, my son ; our cause is just and holy ; 
To fall in't were a glorious martyrdom — 
While to succeed, reclaims our broken shrines, 
Restores the throne its rightful occupant, 
And gives to Scotland peace. 

Rol. Come life — come death ! 
My faith is pledged ! Henceforth, the foes of 

Mary 
Are Roland's enemies, and this his watch-word— 
A sovereign's freedom and a subject's love ! 

{Exeunt Father Ambrose and Roland.) 



ENJ) of act II. 



72 MARY 



ACT III. 

Scene — Jin Anti-chamber in Lochleven Castle. 

Roland Graeme and Catharine Seyton, 
meeting, 

Cath. Well met, my slippery page ! methinks 
'twere easier 
To grip the subtile wind, than catch thine ear, 
And hold it for a moment. 

Rol. Your will, fair dame ! 

Cath. I wish to ask of Kinross — what's the 
news ? 

Rol. The sports went merrily — the chamber- 
lain 
Strutted, chid roundly, spouted monstrous latin, 
And surgery still more monstrous. 

Catk. Pf*haw ! what care I 
How went the sports — or how the chamberlaiQ 
Discharg'd his mimic office ? Saw you none, 
Or nothing of more intimate concernment ? 

B.oL By the mass, fair maid, I did : — a juggler, 
Who with his craft so guU'd the multitude 
That the loons swore — nay, lady, frown not thus, 
Kor curl your lip with scorn — I saw — I saw 
One whom they call'd a witch, and from her lips 
I gained dark phrases and ambiguous hints. 

Cath, And she was — speak, Roland, speak — 

Rol. Yes, lady fair, 
She was — a woman 



OF SCOTLAND. 73 

Cath. Your wit is hasty, sir ; 
I grieve I lack the spirits to enjoy it. 

Rol. Then, to be serious : confidence, fair 
Catharine, 
Is to be won by confidence alone. 
From all this morning's conferences and councils 
I was excluded, as one on whom mistrust 
Had laid its gloomy interdict. Not alone 
The heart in which it dwells, suspicion blights, 
But withers where it falls — to foe turns friend, 
Creating two-fold desolation, 

Cath- Roland! 
If aught has been withheld — 

Rol. If awg/i^ withheld! 
Was aught communicated ? By my sword !— 
My sword! — Well thought of, lady ; was it given 
For service which becomes a manly arm, 
Or to hang idly by my side, till rust 
Should eat away iis gilding ? 

Cath. Hot-blooded yonth ! 
What deeds ol thine demand implicit trust ? 
And if one foolish person v/eakly thinks 
Thy blood is pure — thy faith — thy honour true; 
And on her proffered pledge, the Queen resolves 
To try thy fealty — it perchance were easier 
To prove than justify the fact. 

Rol. And this friend — 
This only one whose kind and generous heart 
Did Roland justice — te;! me, dearest Catharine, 
To whom i owe so large a debt ? 

Ccih, Nay, Roland, 
If your own heart — 

Rol, (^dropping on one knee^ and seizing her 
hand,) Beloved, angelic sweetness ! 
7 



74 MARY, 

Cath If your own heart discover not, I say 

(^disengaging her hand.) 
'Tis most ungrateful, since the Lady Fleming— 

Rol. (starting on his feet,) Fleming! ungene- 
rous girl ! why mock me thus ? 
** The maiden wrought in yonder figured tapestry 
*' Would sooner quit those ancient walls, and 

plead, 
'* Than would the Ladj Fleming." Why damp 

my hopes ? 
Why dissipate the vision you created ? 
There is but one to whose high estimation 
My heart aspires ; and foiled in that ambition, 
What are the Queen's or Scotland's feuds to me ! 

Cath. For shame — for shame — 

RoL Why check my ardour then ? 
Why, when the enchantment of a single word 
Had won me to the fortunes of the Q,ueen, 
Destroy the dear delusion with a breath, 
And set my love and loyalty adrift, 
Both helm and anchor lost ? 

Cath» I could not hear 
The cause which kindles every Scottish heart 
Named in conjunction with a selfish motive. 
Who serves his God, his country, and his Queen, 
Requires no advocate for woman's love. 
She whom he singles out becomes his debtor, 
And owes the recompense her life repays. 

Rol, You hold a glorious prize — be mine the 
venture ! 
Now by my hope ofheaven and thee, sweet maidj 
Henceforth, the quarrel of the Queen is mine, 
And I'll embrace it to the death. 

Cath, Will you ? (taking his hand.) 



OF SCOTLAND, *75 

Will you, indeed ? Oh be but firm in purpose, 
As thou art prompt and bold, and after ages 
Shall hail thee Scotland's saviour! — But the 
Queen ! — 

Enter Q,ueen Mary and Lady Fleming. 

Mary, {as she enters, much agitated,) 
Chafed ! — Grant me patience, heaven ! Was't 

not enough 
To rob me of my child ? — These are rare times. 
When helpless infants are set up to thrust 
Liege mothers from their thrones ! 
Flem. Madam, be calm ! 
Alary. Talk not to me of calmness! can the doe 
See the fierce tiger fasten on her young. 
And yet, with all her impotence, be still 
While the red massacre goes on. 
Flem. My Queen !— 
Mary. I hen I am still a Queen ! so well, my 

Fleming ! 
[During' the latter part of this conversation, 
Catharine advances to the Queen, bends her 
knee, and gently taking her hand, kisses it, 
Roland places the chair and footstool, and 
steps back. Mary sees Catharine.^ 
Ah ! is it thou, ma petite mignone, 

Cath. Daughter of many kings, this youthful 

'squire, 

Thro' me, makes tender of his hand and sword! 

{she beckons Roland, who advances.) 

Come, Roland, bend with me, before yourQueeo 

And offer your devotion. 

{Roland kneels beside her,') 
Rol. Gracious sovereigp ! 



76 MARy 

Unknown as yet in council or the field 
I have no skill to boast, but heart and hand, 
In faith and bold devotion unsurpassed ! 
Mary, (^Giving one hand to Roland, and with 
the other arranging the locks on Catharine''s 
forehead,) 
Alas ! that you should mix your fates with mine ! 
And yet not so ! thro' you, Heaven bids me hope. 
Oh, faithful pair ! should we resume our throne, 
Shall we not have one day of blithesome bridal. 
Of which nor bride nor groom must now be 

named ? 
But he Blairgourie's barony shall have, 
And 'midst her locks shall twine the fairest pearls 
Lochlomond's depths have ever yielded ; and 

thou. 
Yes thou, ray Fleming, shalt, for my love, twine 
them ! (Roland and Catharine rise.) 

Flem- Alas ! my Queen, your thoughts stray 

far from hence ! 
Mary, They do ; but is it well to call them 
back! 
I will recal the vision : at that bridal, 
Mary shall lead a measure. Tell me, Fleming, 
For care hath marr'd my memory — at whose 

wedding 
We threaded last the merry branle ? 
Flem. Alas ! my queen ! 
Mary. What? 
Not help me out ? Thou art court-bred, my 

Fleming ; 
And best wilt understand another language — 
The Queen commands thee to remind her where 
She mingled with the merry dancers last ? 



OF SCOTLAND. 77 

Fhm, Gracious Queen ! if I err not, at Holy- 
rood — 
The marriage of Sebastian ! 

Mary, {shrieks,) Traitress ! Would'st slay thy 
sovereign ? Call my French guards ! 
A moi — a moi — mes Fran^ais ! I am beset ! 
Oh ! they have killed my husband 1 rescue I 

rescue ! 
For Scotland's Queen !— We'll take the field 

ourself ! 
Warn Lothian — Fife — Saddle our Spanish barb ; 
And bid French Paris charge our petronel ! 
For better, as ourgrandsire fell at Flodden, 
To perish in the field, than, like our father, 
Die of a broken heart! 

Cath. Be patient, madam! 
{To Lady Fleming,) 

How could you call to mind her husband ? 
Mary. Husband ! what husband ? not the heir 
of France ! 
He's ill at ease — he cannot mount his horse ! — 
Not him of Lennox ! No, 'twas Orkney's Duke ! 
Bid him come hither, quick, and bring his lambs, 
Bowton, Black Ormiston, and Hay, of Talla, 
And Hob, his kinsman ! Fie, how swart they are ! 
And how they smell of sulphur ! 
RoL My gracious Queen ! 
Mary. What ! closetted with Moreton ! Nay, 
if 't be so — 
If Douglass and the Hepburn hatch together. 
When the bird breaks the shell, Scotland may 

tremble ! 
What says my Fleming ? 

Flem. Wilder and wilder still ? 
7* 



78 MARY 

^Twere better we support her to her chamber. 
These paroxysms are not of long duration. 

Mary. Ba ! ha ! ha ! I said it would not fit ; 
That crown was made not for so small a head — 
Give him a diadem of — oh ! 

(^Overcome with fatigue^ sinks into the arms of 
Roland, <^c. who bear her off'. 

Scene. — A Chamber in the Castle. 

Enter George Douglass, as in deep thought. 

How heavily move the hours which step between 
The birth of hope and its maturity. 
Minutes like months, and months like ages creep, 
As if their wonted wings were featherless, 
And time itself stood waiting for the issue. 
Old Dryfesdale is sick — should Ambrose come 
He must hold watch ; and that will aid us well — 
He has the pass- word and the Douglass token, 
And cannot meet obstruction. Who come's here ? 

Enter Roland Gr£me. 

Roland ! welcome, my friend ! For by such name 
Upon the Abbot's faith I give you greeting. 
Rot. The noblest of the house of Douglass 
honours 
Whom thus he greets. How looks our enter- 
prise ? 
Dong, It wears a face of promise, if the father 
Deceive us not- Yet still one obstacle 
Remains to be o'ercome. 
Rol. Name it, Douglass. 
Doug. The castle keys ! To night, our lady 
mother 



OF SCOTLAND. 79 

Herself retains them : and without their help 
Our schemes must prove abortive. 

EoL Methinks 
A little skill 1 have in handicraft 
Will serve us here. Oft at the armourer's forge, 
In Avenel Castle, I amused my hours 
In making iron toys. Some sundry keys 
1 have with my apparel, which, with skill 
Combined, might pass unknown to sharper eyes 
Than boasts Lochleven's lady. 

Doug. Most excellent ! 
Prepare them instantly : the night advances : 
In half an hour the curfew will be rung : 
And at the Douglass mother's evening visit, 
The keys must be exchanged. 

RoL Be that my care. 
This night shall bring my skill and sleight to 
proof. {Exit Roland.') 

Doug. The page has proved a notable ally. 

EnterljkTiY Lochleven, /o//o'ii)ec? % a servant. 

Lady L. (as she enters,') A man at arms ! And 
from Sir William Douglas ! 
(Seeing Douglas,) Well found, my son ! (to ser- 
vant,) Go, and conduct him hither. 
A servant recommended by my son, 
Demands admittance to our presence. 

Re-enter servant, followed by Father Ambrose, 
and exit servant. 

Your name, good fellow ? 

Father A. (bozving^) Edward Glendinning. 
Lady L. Art of the Knight of Avenel's blood ' 
Father A. Aye, madam. 



80 MARY 

Lady L. 'Tis well : by his own works and 
worth approved 
From low condition he hath raised himself 
To rank exalted. Welcome is his kinsman ! 
Doubtless, you follow the true faith ? 

Father A. Doubt it not. 

Lady L. Hast thou no letter from my sin ? 

Father A. None, Lady ! 
A private token, merely. 

Lady L. I would hear it. 
In what does it consist ? 

Father A» An old bard's words — 

" O, Douglas, Douglas I 
Tender and true." 

Lady L. Aye, trusty Sir John Holland ; kiadar 
heart 
Ne'er prompted minstrelsy : the Douglas honour 
Was ever on his harp-string. Glendinning ! 
Fearest thou the night air ? 

Doug. Not a jot. I'll warrant ! 
He comes in happy time, my lady mother, 
To fill the vacant space of Dryfesdale. 

Lady L. But trust him only with the outer 
ward, 
'Till from our son we gather more of him. 

Father A. Lady, fear not : I shall fulfil the trust 
Your honoured son reposed in me. 

Lady L. I doubt not. 
My son, conduct him to the buttery ; 
Let much be made of him. (curfew tolls.) I mu^t 

away ; 
The tolling of the curfew summons me 
To do a hateful duty. 

{Exeunt at separate doors.) 



OF SCOTLAND. 81 

Scene. — The Queen''s anti-chamher. 

Enter Roland, with a hunch of keys. 

Rol. Kincl saints are thinking of me, by the 
mass! 
These are the Castle-keys' nice counterfeit ; 
As ponderous and as rusty too. Smile on, 
Propitious fates ; and, at the morning's dawn. 
We'll trip it on the greensward merrily. 

(Pwfs the keys in his pocket,^ 

Enter Catharine, from the inner chamber, with 
a lamp. 

Cath. Repose and silence have restored the 
Queen. 
Roland, well met ! Ascend that balcony, 
And instant place this lamp within the window, 
And tell what lights reply across the lake. 
My bosom tells me we shall see two gleams. 
^Roland takes the lamp and exit, then re-appears 
at the window with a light. 

Two lights are seen to glimmer on the distant mar- 
gin of the lake. 

Rol. I see two lights ; and if I rightly guess 
They gleam from old Blinkhoolie's cottage win- 
dows. 
Cath. Right, Roland, and like saint Elmo's 
lights, in storms, 
They kindle hope and consolation. 

{One light is extinguished.) 

Rol. See, 
One of the lights is out. " 



5'i MARV 

Cath. Oh, say you so ! 
The hour of freedom is at hand — come down. 
{Roland descends and enters,) 

The boat has left the shore. 

Rol. Propitious saints ! 
Invest it with a sevenfold shield of night. 

Enter Queen Mary and Lady Fleming. 

Cath. My gracious liege, heaven prospers 
our designs. 
The signal of deliverance gleams. Yon light 
Proclaims our friends already on the lake. 
For God's sake, madam, droop not now I 

Mary. Alas ! 
My mind misgives that I shall die in bondage. 
How can we cheat or bribe the dragon who re- 
tains 
The keys of this our prison ? 

Rol. Call up, my liege, 
The hundred spirits of your kingly sires, 
And bear yourself with fortitude. These keys, 
If Catharine will beguile the lady's ear, 
Shall be the substitutes of those she bears, 
And then the door of liberty is open. 

Mary. Oh, Roland Graeme, how many have 
proved false ! 
Be true to me in this my hour of need. 
A soothsayer in France foretold me once, 
That 1 should die in prison. Heaven forefend 
That his prognostic should be now fulfilled ! 

Cath. Oh, are you not a queen ? and wer't 
not better 
To die in one bold struggle after freedom, 
Than wither in the heat of poisonous drugs 



OF SCOTLAND. 83 

By some base hands administered ? 

Mary. It were ! 
I will be firm, and bear me like myself. 
Tiiis awful venture claims my utmost courage, 
But I will be prepared. 

Cath. Timely resolved ; 
For see, my liege, here comes our lady hostess. 

[Enter Lady Lochleven and servants^ bear, 
ing dishes^ '::i'ho place them on the table and 
exeunt. Enter servant with a white wand^ 
bearing the keys, which he lays on the ta- 
ble, bows and exit. During the first part of 
the conversation which ensues, the lady is OC" 
cupied in tasting the various dishes.] 

Mary, We may not mourn the smallness of 
our court 
When in herself our hostess thus unites 
The offices of Almoner and Steward, 
With captain of our guard. 

Lady L. Not inclination, 
But prudence, let me say, necessity, 
Hath deck'd me with this triple character. 
Old Dryfesdale is bedrid. 

Alary. And George of Douglas — 

Lady L. Feels such repugnance to approach 
your grace, 
(And much do I commend his wariness) 
That for this evening I have given consent 
He may excuse himself 

{She is about to take up ihe keys.) 

Rol. Holy martyrs ! 
What ligh:s illume the church yard--- 
Or do some fancied ghmm<erings cheat my sight ? 



84 MARY* 

[Lady Lochleven turns about, Roland quickly 
changes the keys with a slight clash.) 

Lady L. [Turning hastily round) Who 

touched the keys ? 
RoL Twas my coat sleeve, my Lady ! 
I pressed too rudely forward. 

Lady L. [Taking up the keys and again look- 
ing from the window.) 
These gleams, methinks, 
Come from Blinkhoolie's window, not the 

church-yard. 
I wonder much what thrift the gardener drives, 
That thus, of late, his house is lighted up 
Beyond his usual hours I 
RoL Lady, perchance 
He works his baskets ! 

Lady L. Or his nets — what say you ? 

RoL Aye, madam, like enough, for trout or 

salmon ! 
Lady L. Or fools and knaves ! No — no — this 
must be looked to. 
I thought him an industrious, peaceful man ; 
But if he harbours idle men — night-walkers — 
We must be rid of him. Good night, your 

Grace ! 
To-morrow old Blinkhoolie shall attend us. 

[Exit Lady Lochleven,) 

RoL [After a brief pause.) To-morrow 1 Aye- 
let idiots cry " to-morrow," 

While wise folk use to-night. My gracious 
liege— 

Now if our friends on shore are brave and faith- 
ful 



OF SCOTLAND. 85 

All will go well : 

Cath. They are as true as steel : 
Fear not, so that oar dear and royal mistress 
Maintain her noble courage. 

Mary. Doubt not me : 
The woman's weakness I have cast aside, 
And roused the spirit of those sprightlier days, 
When, with my armed nobility encircled, 
I longed to know the weight of sword and 
buckler. 
Cath. The lark lives not a gayer life, nor 
sings 
A blither carol, than the merry soldier. 
Your Grace, I trust, shall be among them soon ; 
And the Queen's presence, in the time of need, 
Shall make their host and power of triple 
strength. 
Rol. So please your Highness to retire a 
moment, 
While 1 hold parley with the sentinel, 
And see the boat in readiness — anon. 
Expect me, and prepare to summon up 
Your utmost courage for the final struggle. 
Mary. If thou deceive me, Roland ! — No — 
no — no ! 
Thou would'st not kill thy Queen ! — away, brave 

youth ! 
I will attend thy summons. 

(^Exeunt, Queen Mary^ Catharine, and Lady 
Fleming into the inner room^ and Roland to 
the gates.) 



8$ MARY 

Scene. — Outside of the Castle Walls — The Lake, 
and a boat, with rowers lying sheltered under 
one of the towers. 

Father Ambrose, as a Sentinel, 

The moon has sunk beneath yon southern hills, 
And all is hushed in silence. My throbbing 

heart 
Lie still ! Down, anxious thoughts, and hasty 

terrors ! 
An injured Queen is Heaven's peculiar, charge, 
And every fear is impious. 

(Douglas advances from he boat.) 
Doug. No tidings yet ! 
What if young Graeme should fail to change the 
keys ? 
Father A, Oh, doubt him not ! The hour is 
most propitious : 
Would he were here ! 

Doug. I do believe him true : 
But we have left too much to chance, methinks. 
He can but seize the occasion — not create it. 
Father A. Methought I heard the grating of 

the wards. 
[Enter Roland covtiously opening the gate.'] 
Rol. Hist, Father ! hist ! Are all things ready ! 
Father A. All 
The boat, my son, lies close beneath the walls : 
The rowers rest upon their oars. Be speedy ; 
Mo time should now be lost. 
Rol. Expect us promptly. 

(^Roland re-enters the gate.) 
Doug. Ahother moment and the stake is won ! 
And Douglas for a hopeless passion yields 



OF SCOTLAND). 87 

Fortune and friends, and fame. 

Father A. Not so, young man ! 
Thy fortune shall be Mary's charge; the friends 
Thy loyalty shall win thee, far outnumber 
The tale of those thou losest, and thy fame 
Shall be the care of graetful ages ! 

Doug. For good or ill, my lot is cast with 
Mary. 

Rc'enter Roland with Queen Mary, Catha- 
rine, and Lady Fleming. 

Mary. Support me, Roland, for my trembling 
limbs 
Feel weak and weary. Where lies the boat ? 

Rol. Courage, my Q,ueen ! One effort more 
for freedom. 

Doug. Under the islet lies the boat, my liege, 
Safe from the warder's ken. 

Mary. Heavens ! a soldier ! 
Am I betrayed at last. 

Ambrose. {Kneels) My Queen, my mistress ! 
Your faithful Ambrose has exchanged the staff 
And cowl and mitre, for the glittering steel — 
Alike your priest and soldier. 

Mary. My Father : 
Your presence is the surety of success. 
Your arm. My trusty squire, lead Catharine 

forward ; 
Douglas, let Fleming be your charge ! 

Ambrose, (.^s they retire tomards the boat.) My 
son. 
Who holds the inner watch of night ? 

Rol. Hildeband : 
A heavy headed knave, who drinks and sleeps 



68 MARY 

Too deep to let our converse interrupt hini* 
(They arrange themselves in the boat, but just 

as the rowers are about to push off 
Rol. (^Leaping ashore) I have forgotten — wait 

but half a minute. 
(He runs to the gate, opens it, and disappears.) 
Doug. What means the page ? 
Mary. Heavens ! Is he false at last ! 
Catharine. No, true as Heaven itself, I will 

maintain. 
{During the conversation, the boat is pushed 
off from the shore, before Roland returns; who 
re-entering locks the gate, and with a springs 
reaches the boat.) 
Doug. That dash will wake the centinel. 
Row, lads ! 
The castle boat will soon pursue us. 

Rol. Fear not ! 
When I ran back, I locked both gate and 

wicket ; 
If doors of oak and iron bolts can hold. 
Nor man nor boat stirs thence to night. And 

now. 
Good Kelpie, take possession of the keys 

{He throws the keys into the lake.) 
Father A. Bless thee, my son, thy prudence 

saves us all. 
(A cry from the castle walls " a boat /" " a 
boat!'' " Treason!'' ** Treason!" The bell 
rings — a shot or two isjired — as the boat is 
lost sight of shouts are heard, " they have 
escaped!^' *' they have escaped !^') 



OF SCOTLAIfD 89 

Scene. — A Scottish encampment^ night, 

Adam Woodcock as a SeniineL 

Oh ! that my mother's son should ever have 
left the peaceful practice of falconry, to handle 
a harquebuss ! What a prostitution of talents ! 
Any loon or idiot can shoulder a gun, but a 
knowledge of falconry is a vocation known to 
few. The night air is cold, and — alas that 1 
should say so ! — there is neither beef nor bran- 
dywine to fly to for succour against the damps 
of this devilish lowland flat. *' To my think- 
" ing, a soldier's is a miserable occupation : not 
" to mention long marches, and wet and cold, 
** and wet heather for a bed, and cold iron for a 
** pillow, which are hardships enough in their 
" way ; he has to encounter those worst of all 
*' evils for a goodly constitution like mine, fre- 
" quent abstinences from meat and drink and 
*' wholesome slumber." Who goes there ? 
stand or I'll shoot you. 

Enter Luke Lundin cautiously, 

Lundin. Friend ! Friend Sentinel ! 

Adam. Your business ? Nay keep off the 
lengthof my harquebuss, unless you have any 
good cordial in that pouch of yours. 

Lundin. Cordial, friend. Verily I have an 
elixir which operateth tuto^ cito^ jocundo ! 

Adam. I never heard of that liquor before : 
and lest it should be poison, my spy o' the 
camp, you shall even take the first pull at it 
yourself. 

Lundin. That is an anomaly in our practice, 
8* 



90 MARY 

friend, nevertheless will I oblige the. All ma- 
ladies, from your tjissis to your pesiis walk 
abroad in the night air. Dost thou not know 
that I am a son of Hypocrates ? [Drinks.) 

Adam. Is he a pagan papist, or one of the re- 
formed ? 

Lundin. {Taking the flask from his lips and 
handing it tc Adam.) Reformed ! What said you 
of reformed, my son of Mars 1 Ah, I see ; thou 
hast discovered that I am a physician I Thou 
bast sagacity ! True, we have much reformed 
the practice. Esculapos was a mere blunder- 
er, and Galen an ignoramus compared with our 
modern school. What think you of my double- 
distilled aqua mirabilis ? probatum est ! 

Adam. I like the liquor better than the name 
of it. And now, friend, pray inform me what 
is your business here. If you want patients, 
you'll find plenty ; for this cold marshy land 
has given us all agues and asthmas. 

Lundin. Agues and asthmas ! excellent ! I 
have a most perfect knowledge of diagnostis, 
since I see with half an eye what disease you 
are sick of; and as for remedies, I have them 
all at my fingers' ends. But apropos, friend, 
who commands here ? 

Adam. Lord Lindesay of the Byres ; and 
with him Lord Uuthven and Sir Halbert Glen- 
dinning, knight of Avenel, and far renowned for 
his famous falconer. You will soon have an 
opportunity of seeing them, for I have orders 
to take every stranger before them. So if you 
would escape the hangman, get a good story 
ready. 



OF SCOTLAND. 91 

Lwn. Thou 9rt a pestilent fellow, to talk to 
me of the hangman. My business is with^ thy 
masters. I have important matter on which to 
commune with them ; and when thou shalt dis- 
cover, saucy knave, in what estimation they will 
hold me, thou will be convinced, to thy cost, 
that the physician's quality may not be jested 
with. 

Adam. Out of gratitude for thy cordial, I will 
not prick thee with my poniard, nor pinion thy 
hands, so thou observest a fit decorum, and 
keepest by my side 

Lun. Prick or pinion me at thy peril, thou in- 
veterate swash-buckler. If my degree cannot 
protect me from the insolence of the illiterate 
vulgar, it may suffice to bring down punishment 
on those who undervalue it. Pedestrify ! 

Adam. I don't understand your trash of sur- 
gery-sounds. 

Lun. Walk, sirrah I Or as the vocabulary of 
war hath it — march ! 

Adam. Thou art a wag ; and for thy waggery 
I could desire to crack pottle with thee here- 
after ; so the hempen collar crack not thy neck, 
in the mean time. Come along, thou cracker of 
jests, as well as constitutions. 

Lun. If we should drink together, it must be 
cordials of mine own distillation ; inasranch as I 
am no friend to the fiery admixtures and pota- 
tions which the tavern hosts drench their custo- 
mers withal ; and which are mischevious to bo- 
dily sanity. 

Adam. Come along, my fine fellow, we'll not 
quarrel about the distiller, so we get the es- 
sence. — March. {Exeunt,') 



D2 MAKK' 

Scene. — Inlerior of Lord Lindesay'^s tent. 

Lord Lindesay, Lord Ruthven, and Sir Hal- 
BERT Glendinning, at a table. 

Lord L. Be it so my friends : we break up 
with the dawD, 
And pitch our tents still nearer to Lochleven. 
The Regent's letters say the Haaiiltons 
And Seytons have been missed from Edinburgh. 

Sir H. That looks suspicious. 

Lord R. They are men who sleep not ; 
And when their clans are out, our swords, be 

sure, 
Will not have time to rust. 

Enter Adam Woodcock and Luke Lundin. 

Lord L. What have we here ? 

Adam. A wandering gentleman, my lord, 
whom I picked up while strolling about the edge 
of the camp. I thought him a spy, he denied it ; 
and as he says he is a physician, and can cure 
asthmas and agues, I am bound to believe him. 

Lord L. Who are you — and what seek you 
here ? 

Lun. First, my lord, for such I take you to 
be from your own aspect, as well as the report 
of this angnh in herba^ who lay in wait for me, 
my name is Luke Lundin, of Kinross, better 
known as Doctor Luke Lundin, until I laid aside 
my furred gown and bonnet, and retired me 
into the temporality of chamberlain, which I 
enjoy under the favor of the Lady of Lochleven. 

Lord L. Lochleven I Come you from that 
quarter ? 



OF SCOTLAND, 93 

Lun. Yes, my good lord, and being a good 
friend to church and state, as it is now esta- 
blished, I journeyed hitherward to your camp to 
commune with you, as to certain diagnostics of 
a suspicious nature, which I have lately noted. 

Lord L. Be brief, knave or chamberlain, or 
what thou art, and tell us what thou hast ob- 
served. 

Lun. I have noted men in arms loitering about 
our town : more especially at a recent revel 
which, was held there, 1 did observe divers of 
this class mixing in our sports, and I do mistake 
me if I saw not, under a mutHer, the counte- 
nance of a Seyton. 

Lord L. The game is sprung, my friends : the 
chase is up 
Good fellow, thou shalt have promotion. 

Adam, [aside to Lundin^) Comrade, we will 
drink together anon. 

Lord L. What more canst thou communicate. 

Lun. But little more, my lord, save that there 
is a witch, who hath long loitered about the 
town to the prejudice of good morals and the 
disadvantage of my faculty, and her do I suspect 
of colleaguing with rebels, inasmuch as armed 
men have been watched to go in and out of her 
abode, and even now she is missing altogether. 

Lord L. She shall feel fire and faggot. Go thy 
way, 
And get refreshment. Look to him, soldier : 
Anon, we may converse again. 

[Exeunt Adam and Lundin,) 
Lord Ruthven 
There's treason in our front. The page, Sir 
Halbert— 



94 MARY 

That boy of thine, we hear, has been suspected. 
Thy brother Edward too, the would-be-abbot, 
Let them look to't ! 

Sir H. Why this to me, my lord ? 
My faith stands high — my service unimpeached. 
Their own heads answer for their truth or 
treason. 

Lord R. Even so, Sir Knight, we know thy 
courage well. 
Lei it not chafe thee that Lord Lindesay's heat 
Somewhat o'erstepped his courtesy. 

Lord L. I meant not 
To impute unworthiness to Avenel's knight. 
My hand ! And now to business : me thinks, my 

friends, 
'Twere well to march at dawn. 

Sir H. Why not before ? 
Our troops are fresh ! 

Lord R. Why not within this hour ? 
West Niddrie, where the Seytons have a castle, 
Is scarce six leagues before us. Ere the dawn, 
We may o'ercome three leagues ! 

Lord L. Agreed, my friends ! 
W^ith all my heart agreed. This looks like vigour! 
Now to your different posts, and thro' the camp 
Let the shrill trumpet wake the dro\v«y bands ; 
Strike all the tents, and let our prompt array 
Outstrip the lazy night. (Exeunt.) 

Scene. — ^4 room in Lord Seyton'^s castle. '^ 
row of arches behind : beyond which is seen 
an oratory ; in one part of rohich Roland 
Gr^me is seen leaning against a pillar ^ in 



OF SCOTLAND. 95 

a moody posture. On the other side George 
Douglas is seen reclining in the recess of 
a window, his back against the zvali, and his 
arms folded. 

Father Ambrose, Lord Seyton, 7whhs and 
officers. 
Lord S. Father, how fares the Queen ? Witli 
the young day, 
We must to horse again. 

Father A, She bears it well : 
Hope buoys her spirits, and the air of freedom 
Gives more than natural vigour to her frame. 
But see, she comes ! 

Enter Queen Mary, Lady Fleming, and Catha- 
rine. The nobles bow. 

Mary. Thanks, noble, generous friends ! The 
debt I owe you 
Claims a more liberal recompense than words : 
And, should 1 reach the top of Fortune's wheel, 
I'll throw aside her bandage, and with gift 
Large as a sovereign's power, reward your ser- 
vice. 
Which way resolve your councils we should 
take? 
Father A. So please your majesty, to Dra- 
phane Castle, 
Thence to Dumbarton, and your royal person 
Placed in security, it is proposed 
To take the field. 

Mary. When do we journey, lords. 
Father A We purpose, should your Grace's 
strength permit, 



96 MARY 

To take horse presently. 

Mary. Your will is mine : 
We rule our journey by your wisdom now ; 
And hope, hereafter, to command its aid 
To guide our kingdom's councils. Make all ready; 
And I'll attend your summons. 

{Exeunt Lord Seyton^ nobles and officers.) 
{To Catharine,) Where's my page ? 
George Douglas too ? What keeps them from 
our presence ? 

Caih. They are in yonder oratory, madam, 
In melancholy mood enough. 

Mary, indeed ! 
This may not be. Go, call them hither, girl, 

[Catharine retires to the oratory, and returns 
with Douglas and Roland, who advance on 
each side the Qwccw] 
Say, Douglas, how is this ? Why does the friend 
Who first devised this happy scheme of freedom, 
And aided to achieve it, strangely shun 
His fellow nobles and indebted Q,ueen ? 

Doug. Madam, the nobles who surround you 
now, 
Bring wealth and vassals to support your cause ; 
Castles of might, and splendid halls are theirs, 
To make ^ou welcome and secure — but I — 
I am a houseless, solitary man, 
Cursed, disinherited, disow^ned and poor. 
My sword — my life — is all I bring 1 

Mary. Douglas ! 
Would you upbraid your Q,ueen, by thus re- 
counting 
What, for her sake* you have surrendered ? 

Doug. No, Heaven forbid! vrere it to drf 
aacain 



OF SCOTLANB. 97 

And I had rank, and wealth, and friends to lose, 
Exceeding twenty fold what I have lost 
All would I gladly give : — but yet, my liege, 
I am a Douglas ; with the nobles round you, 
In feud, my family have been for ages, 
Coldness from them were insult, still more 

galling 
Greetings of hollow kindness. 
Mary. Douglas, for shame, 
Shake oflf unmanly gloom In wealth and title 
Mary can match thee with the proudest noble. 
Go then amongst them, I command. 

Doug. My liege, 
At that command I go. Yet not for wealth 
Nor barren title have I ventured all : 
Mary, alas ! will not reward her victim, 
And the Queen cannot ! [Exit, 

Mary, Our lady pity me. 
No sooner are my prison sorrows ended, 
Than all a woman's cares beset me. Alas ! 
Poor Douglas ! [sees Roland) How now, Roland 

Graeme ! This morning, 
Why thus neglectful.'* Has your last nighi^s 

ride 
Prevented your attendance ? 

Rol. Madam, not so ! 
I have been checked, insulted, put aside ; 
Lochleven's page, it seems, at Niddrie Castle, 
Is page no longer. Churl's blood may not sit 
Where these proud Seytons breathe. 

Mary. Who waits there, ho ? [Enter Servant. 
Send my Lord Seyton hither ! {Exit Servant.) 
By my crown I 





98 MARY 

I'll have my page sit down with Scotland's no- 
blest. 

E7ifer Lord Seyton. 

My Lord ! Look on this youth ! Wer't not for 

him, 
Spite of your goodly show of spears and lances, 
Mary had still been 'prisoned in Lochleven. 
Give him your hand ! 

Lord Sey. With all my heart, my liege. 
I owe him that good will for former service, 
When in an evening brawl his trusty weapon 
Redeemed me from a villain's stroke. 

Mary. How, then. 
Is he repaid with slight and contumely ? 

Lord Sey. He makes pretension to my daugh- 
ter, madam. 
I am the servant of your Grace's throne, 
My goods, my castles, and my blood, are your's. 
I must retain my honor's custody, 
And as its guardian. I pronounce a Seyton 
Can be no more to him, than any churl 
Who dares to ask her. 

Enter {suddenly from behind the shrine) MagdA- 

LEN GUiEME. 

Mag. Of what clay then art thou, 
That the Greeme's blood may not be blent with 

thine ? 
Know this, proud Lord, this youth owes his de- 
scent 
To Malise with the bright brand, Earl of Stra- 
thern, 



OF SCOTLAND. 99 

Boasts this hot blood of your's a higher source ? 

Rol. Kind Heaven, I thank thee ! 

Lord Sey. But, my Sainted Mother ! 
His father's name — 

Mag. Julian of Avenel, Lord ! 
Who fell in glorious fight against the Southron. 
There is a wandering spirit of the air, 
AVhose evidence, at some befitting hour, 
Shall second mine; and at her mystic coming 
A cloud shall rise before Glendinning's sun, 
And shroud its borrowed beams for ever. 

Mary. Did I not say, my page should sit with 
nobles ? 
And Catharine shall repay him for his fealty ! 

Lord Sey. Pardon, my liege, if tale be rightly 
told. 
This Julian was a perjured knight; and she 
A frail and credulous maiden! 

Rol. (^grasping his sword) By heaven thou 
liest ! [relaxing his grasp) 
No — you are Catharine's father ! 

Mag. (^to Roland) The packet, boy ! 

(^Roland takes a packet from his hosam, 
which he gives to Magdalen.) 
Thou hast preserved it well. See here, my 

queen. 
The attestation of my daughter's marriage, 
With him of Avenel, *'by Sacristan Philip, 
" Lodged with the Abbot Boniface ! 

Father A. True, madam ; 
" Under confession's seal, the Sacristan 
" Placed this tcstificate in lawful hands. 
** The Abbot had obtained from Julian Avenel 
" A promise to proclaim his secret marriage, 



100 MARY 

" And all the private causes which concurred 
" To its concealment, when the hand of death 
" Prevented its accomplishment.^' 

Mary. Enough ! 
The tale of sorrow often have I heard. 
And was it then thy hapless child, who followed 
And died upon the body of her lord ? 
And art thou he, my son, that heir of sorrow, 
Who, 'midst the dead and dying, first inhah^d 
The breath of life ? Thou art the Seyton's equal t 
And much good service thou hast done me. 

Mag. To that great work did I devote him. I, 
Whose agency and counsel oft inspired 
Your fainting servants. The last, lonely hope 
Of a decaying house I kept not back. 
What should be my reward, descend on him, 

Mary. " You will not leave us, mother ! You, 
to whom 
" So much we owe ! 

Mag. " My ministry is ended. 
*' You are free : by gallant lords surrounded ; 
^* May they prove trusty as the faith of women '. 

Lord Scy, " Go not, 'ere we have to know and 
thank you. 

Mag. *' Her, who knows not herself, you can- 
not know. 
" Oh ! times there are, when in this frame of 

mine 
" A Sampson's vigour reigns, and in this brain 
" Wisdom surpassing human ; — then again 
" The mist is on me, all my strength decays, 
" My wisdom sinks to folly. — Cardinals, 
" Princes — aye Princes of Lorraine, have heard 
me, 



OP SCOTLAND. 101 

'' And bowed before my words. But now, alas ! 
" When most I need persuasion, words come 
not." 
Mary. " Pause not for eloquence, but speak 
thy wish 
" And, at the naming only, see it granted." 
Mag. (^seizing Roland's hand, she leads him to 
to the Qneen, makes him kneel, and 
bending herself one knee.) 
Princess, look on this flower ! A stranger pluck- 
ed it 
From the red field of slaughter. Long it was 
Ere my arms pressed this relic of my daughter. 
Yet, for the sake of our eternal faith, and your's, 
I left him to the care of strangers — enemies, 
To wfaom his blood had been as choicest wine. 
Scarce have these eyes beheld him, from that day, 
Save in a few brief hours of doubt and dread. 
And now I part with him again for ever ! 

Rol. We will not part I Your few remaining 
years 
My filial love shall soothe, (^attempting to rise.) 

Mag. Nay, rise not yet ! 
My son, these eyes shall rest on thee no more, 
My travail is not yet accomplished ! Queen ' 
For every weary step I made for you. 
Protect this child, no longer mine ! 

Mary. I swear. 
His happiness and fame shall be our charge ! 
Mag. Daughter of Kings ! I thank you, 

(^kissing the Queen''s hand, and Ko- 
land^s brozv — rising) 

I have done ! 
9* 



102 WAfeY 

Earth, thou hast had thine own 1 And now, high 

Heavon 
Demands the rest ! Go, Scotland's Lioness ! 
Go forth and conquer ! Many a distant shrine 
These knees shall press for thee ! From land to 

land — 
Temple to temple — where my country's name 
Has yet to be pronounced, this form shall glide 
Like an untiring ghost, till the pale priests 
Shall ask, in wonder, of that northern queen 
For whom the aged pilgrim prayed ? Farewel f 
Honour, and earthly power, and peace be thine ! 
Let none pursue me — my resolve is fixed — 
My vow cannot be broken ! {exit rapidly after a 
momenfs glance at Roland.^ 
Rol. My mother! 
I cannot lose thee thus ! {he attempts to pursue^ 
hut is prevented by Lord Seyton and Fa- 
ther Ambrose.^ 
Father A. Press her not now ! 
Or she is lost for ever ! '' Many a time 
** Have we beheld her at the needful moment. 
*' But never will she pardon him who breaks, 
" Uncalled, upon her privacy. Unthwarted, 
" We may again behold her." 

Mary. Now, my lord, 
I trust that Mary may command your aid 
To execute her last request. 
Lord Sey. What, madam. 
In the protection of my gallant second ? 
My hand upon't ! Since, in his youthful veins, 
No churl's blood hath a place, when the tim* 

suits, 
He shall not lack our friendship. 



OF SCOTLAND. 103 

Mary. Nor our smile .' 
No longer Grsenie, but Avenelbeliecalled, 
And if heaven prosper us, the barony 
Shall quickly call him to lord. 

RoL And I will give it 
To her who holds it now — ray kind pretectress ? 
For rather landless would I be for life, 
Than rob my second mother of a rood. 

Mary. Thy mind is noble as thy birth ! But 
now, 
Another subject claims us. My Lord Seyton, 
We wait your summons : yet my boding heart 
Is sick with apprehension. 

Lord Sey. Courage, madam, 
Behold your friends. 

[The trumpet sounds, the scene draws, and dis- 
covers the troops all drawn up, with banners and 
music. Drums and trumpets play a flourish — the. 
banners are lowered — and ojficers salute, and sol- 
diers present arms. The queen curtsies. Exeunt, 
through the lines, the queen and her ladies. Lord 
Seyton, Father Ambrose, and Roland ; the ranks 
closing after them, and marching o^ to the sound 
of music. 



SCENE VIII.— TAe Country. 

Enter Lord Lindsay, and Lord Ruthvex meet- 
ing. 

Lord Lind. Your countenance speaks news. 

Lord Ruthven, 
Lord Ruth. Then it speaks truth; my lord 5 

our foragers, 



104 MART 

Within this hour, fell in with a detachment 
Led by young Seyton ; after transient skirmishj 
Our men retreated to report the news. 

Lord Lind. Call in our outposts, and the ex- 
tended wings 
Promptly concentre. Wary are our foes, 
And would not, I bethink me, on weak grounds, 
Venture thus far into the country. 

Enter Sir Halbert Glendinning, hastily. 
Sir Halb. My lords, our vanguard, from yon 
mountain top. 
Have noted squadrons swarming o'er the vale, 
Covering, like locusts, all the goodly lands. 
Lord Lind. 'Tis as I thought. Yet what may 
be their object? 
In what direction move they ? 
Sir Halb. This way, my lord. 
Lord Lind. Then, by our cause, there's some- 
thing serious in't .' 
I trust the queen has not been freed I 

Sir Halb. I fear it : 
For there is rumour, though I failed to trace it 
Up to its origin — that in the centre 
Of the strange legions which advance upon us, 
Closely begirt by men of noble garb, 
Some females ride. 

Lord Lind. Is't so ? Is't so indeed .' 
Then many a gallant form which drinks the 

morn, 
And blithely vapours in the early sun. 
Evening shall mantle on the blood-drenched 
earth, 



OF SCOTLAND. 103 

A Stiffened corse. On the lake's brink we'll 
wait them. 

[exeunt. 

Enter Adam Woodcock, aiid Luke Lundin, 
armed. 

Adam. Friend physician, if thou be'st no bet- 
ter handler of limb-iopping instruments, and sur- 
gery knives, than ihou art of ^un and sword, 
thy seven years' apprenticeship to thy craft was 
time dead lost. Out upon thee, carry thy gun 
upright ! 

Lundin. I wish I was back at Kinross, curing 
dyspepsies, and dropsies, and gout, and jaun- 
dice. W!iat do I know of fi(?,hfing, except warr- 
ing against plague and pesnience. 

Adam. I see thou knowest nothing of it, and 
my skill is ordered to illuminate thy ignorance. 
J heard but a minute ago a whisper about a 
battle before the day is over. 

Lundin, Esculapius. Galen, Machaon, Hip- 
pocrates, Celsus, and all the learned tribe de- 
fend me from your battles. I had as soon submit 
to copious phlebotomy, and quarts of boiling 
water six times a day, as stand in the front of a 
loaded harquebus, even in the hands of a friend ; 
but to come face to face with a bloody minded 
enemy — it will be my death. 

Adam. And the death of many a bolder fel- 
low. " if I were disposed to complain, as thou 
" dost, I might grumble at being compelled to 
" exchange falconry for fighting, and killing 
** feathered game for shooting and maiming my 
" fellow creatures : but what would it avail me V^ 



106 MAKY 

Come along, knave doctor, or the rear -guard 
will pick us up. 

Lundtn. I little care who picks us Mp. "I have 
'* but little inclination to walking with this heavy 
** appendage of steel or iron, or what metal it 
** may be 5 and this monstrous broad sword 
** clanking against the ground at every step I 
" take." Oh J that I were in my own medicine 
chest. 

Adam. I would rather be in a hot battle, much 
as I dislike the smell of gunpowder, and the 
sight of blood, than be stewed up amidst so vile 
a society of compounds and chemicals. If I es- 
caped death by swallowing your poisons, the 
smell would surely end me. 

Lundin. A pestilence light on thee, thou pro- 
fane knave, for speaking hghtly of our thrift. 

Adam. And drugs and doses drench thee for 
as clumsy a loon at handUng arms as ever was 
cast upon a field of battle. Come along, sirrah ^ 
carry your harquebuss upright. 

DUEL—Tune « Ha ! ha ! the wooing o7." 

Adam. Hector long'd to meet the foe ' 

Step firm my doughty boy ! 
Luke. Only one such fool, I know, 

He liv'd and died at Troy. 
Adam. Hector was a Campbell free — 
Luke. Stay — stay — thou ill read dunce, 
Homer gives his pedigree, 

Troy's prince and general once. 
Adam. How the de'il should Hector know .! 

I ken'd the scoundrel weel — 
Better Scotsman ne'er, I trow, 

Pitch'd tent or handled stecL 



OP SCOTLAND. 107 

Luke. Verbum sat ; I see it now — 
Thou prov'st thyself an ass. 
Adam. Sirrah ! 

Lukt. Nay, nay, my friend, not so — 

Shake hands, and let it pass. 

(taking intt his cordial.) 
Whether Trojan fool or Scot 
Pledge deep — 
Mayn. With all my will, 

Whether Homer lied or not — • 
We'll drink together still. 
Both. This is pleasant drink enough, 

One draught makes sadness gay — 
One more — there — that's quanlum suff. — 
Quick march ! Away ! away ! [Ex&imt. 



SCENE IX. — Another view of the country. 

Enter Queen Mary, Lady Fleming, Catha- 
rine, Roland, Father Ambrose, Douglas, 
Lord Seyton, Nobles, and Officers. 
Mary, What may these tidings mean ? 
Father A. My royal mistress ! 
Soon we shall be encountered. Even now 
Our enemies intercept us. The line of hills 
Along our front is occupied by troops. 
Mary. Is there no way to escape ? 
Douglas. Escape, my liege ! 
Were the assembled rebels ten to one 
We might give ground — to falter now were t'rea^ 

son ! 
What says Lord Seyton ? 
LordSey. Baitle ! Battle! 
Douglas. What, Lords and gentlemen.' 
All. Battle I Battle .' 



10^ MARY 

Douglas. We'll drive the rebels from thftir 
'vantage ground, 
As the hound turns the hare. 

Roland. From yon high summit 
Our onset shall dislodge them. 

Father A, Noble lords ! 
Belter prevent their gaining that advantage 
Our road lies through yon hamlet on the brow; 
Who gains it first, wins an important post. 
Mary. Well said, Lord Abbot; Douglas, 
hasten thither ! 
Swift as the wind our foes approach it. 

Douglas. My queen. 
Thanks for the post of honour ! Instantly '^ 

The pass shall be secured. I fly to seize it. ''f* 
Lord S. Not before me, young Douglas. Hold ' 
I not 
Charge of the vanguard ? 

Doug. Before you, my lord, 
Or any man, follow me, gentlemen, 
You-, who by deeds of glorious enterprise, 
Would show your loyalty! Draw your bright 

blades — 
For Scotland and the queen ! -j!^ 

lExit, folloxiaed by several nobles, ^c. 
Lord S. And follow me, 
My noble kinsmen and my faithful tenants, 
They who first gain the post, shall win the glory f " 
God and the queen ! 

\_Exit, followed by the rest of the nobles, 4'C. 
Father A. Oh ! most unhapp}^ strife ! 
lU-omen'd haste ! since from the Southern shires 
I have returned, I find these heated lords, ^ 

Before so wise and thoughtful, rash, rebellious, 



OP SCOTLAND. 109 

They will be met full soon. 
RoL So ninch the better: 
My cradle was the gory field — 

Father A. Beware ! 
Beware thou make it not thy couch of death ! 
What yonder men are whom you now despise 
This day may teach you to your cost I 

RoL What are they ? 
Is their flesh iron ? Are their sinews wire ? 
Will not lead pierce, or sharp steel cut them 
down? 
Father A. '' Bad men they are 5 but war re- 
quires not saints !'' 
\ Ind'say or Ruthven's back who ever saw ? 
' 'rkaldy is no craven ; aad my brother 
^111 arm'd in such a cause) hath scanty rivals ! 

(^Firi7ig heard.) 
Mary. The battle rages! see the Seyton's 

banner ! 
Cath. Oh ! father — brother / Peril hems you 
round, 
While I remain in safety ! 
RoL Would to heaven 
This arm of mine was with them — and my blood 
oould ransom theirs ! 

Cath. Do I not not know thy wish ? 
^an woman say to man what I have said, 
A nd yet suspect his soul o( fear ? 

Mary. Roland ! 
Advance some paces to the topmost ridge 
\nd say how goes the field ! [Exit Roland, 

With us, I trust I 
'et what but ills surround me ! 
Father A. Many a soul, 
10 



110 MARY 

In these loud thunders wings its way to heaven, 
Or bends it flight to hell ! Join me in prayers 
For triumph in this dreadful strife ! 

Mary. Not here ! 
Oh father ! Pray not here, or pray in silence. 
I cannot here compose my harrassed mind ; 
Or if you pray, be it for me ! 

Re-enter Roland. 

Rol. My queen, 
This spot grows less secure. The fight comes 

nearer ! 
The Hamiltons are routed, and a squadron 
Of horse ascend the hill. 

Mary. Where can I fly ? 
Conduct me as you please ! My star is dim ! 
My gay hopes vanish like a morning dream ! 

(^Firing.) 
Rol, Haste, madsm ! Let us lead you to your 
steeds ! 
The danger nears us. Yet, you are unseen, 
And may escape 'till fate relents ! 

Father A. Madam — 
Cheer up ! Forget you are a woman now, 
And be a queen I 

Mary. I must forget much more : 
Your arm, Lord Abbot, I submit to heaven. 

[Exeunt. 



OF SCOTLAND. Ill 



SCENE — The country. — A lake zviih a bridge on, 
it. In the foreground a holly bush. Firing 
heard. 

Enter Luke Lundin, with his sn'ord drazcn, in 
great terror. 

If there be any agents appointed to protect 
the facuhy, let them cram me into a gally-pot, 
stop me in a phial, or do any thing they please 
with me, so they get me safe and sound out of 
this infernal field. Zounds, here is somebody 
coming. (^Iiides behind the bush.) 

Enter Roland Gr^me with his sword drawn. 

The day goes hard with us. Of our brave troops 
A third already have been slain or taken. 

Enter Lord Seyton, pursued by three saldiers. 
Roland attacks one, kills him, and assails the 
second, who, with the other Jlies. 

Lord Sey. A second time thy debtor, noble 
youth ! 
After the battle should we both survive, 
I will repay thee amply. 

Rol. I joy, my lord, 
That this poor arm hath rescued you. But see 
The fight demands our presence. 

[Exit Lord Seyton. 

As Roland runs off", enter Adam Woodcock, who 
attempts to stop him, but is instantly struck fo 
the ground) and exit Roland* 



112 MARY 

Lund, (coming from the bush.) Zounds, wha* 
gunpowder fellow was that ? and yet if my 
memory serves me, it was the page who tasted 
my cordials the other day at Kinross, {sees A- 
dam.) Ah, here lies my pestilent tutor : before 
he attempted to teach me the use of arms, he 
should better have studied them himself. O ho, 
I may have a little of my agua mirabilis left, I 
will administer to him. {he pours some down 
Adam's throat.) 

Adam. I owe thee a good turn for this. I be- 
lieve I am not wounded : this is not the first time 
I have felt your arm, Master Roland, though I 
little meant to meet you there. Help me off the 
field, friend, this is no tarrying place for cracked 
crowns. 

Lund. Nor uncracked ones neither, if they 
have any brains in them. [Exeunt. 

Enter Sir Halbert Glendinning and George 
Douglas, meeting. 

Sir Hal. The Queen ! Where is the Queen ? 

Doug. Here, by her champion ! 

Sir Hal. Be valiant, then, or by my sword, 

thou diest ! 
Doug. Be that as heaven determines ! For 

the Queen ! 

They fight — Douglas is "wounded and falls. — 
Enter Roland, who assails Sir Halbert. Sir 
HalberVs foot slips, and he falls. Roland 
stands over him. The whole body of the two 
«rmie$ advance in opposite direetionSj charging 



OP SCOTLAND* 51^ 

uiriously, the bridge is covered. At this in- 
stajii a jo^rley is sounded. The soldiers sud- 
denly stop in the attitude of charging. On one 
dde Queen Mary, Lady Fleming, Catharine, 
Father Ambrose, and Lord Seyton, enter hastily. 
On the other. Lord Lindsay and Lord Ruthven. 
Mary. The English warden, in his sovereign's 
name, 

Hath offered truce, safe conduct and a welcomej 
If from this bootless conduct I retire, 
And quit this troubled land. Now be it known. 
And at the word, let all contention cease, 
I grasp the offer. Let the warden's boat 
Approach the shore. ^ /, \ 

(ct boat approaches with ajiag.) 
Father A. Do you leave us, madam : 
Then Scotland's sun is set. Unhappy Queen, 
Blinded, deceived, betrayed ! 

Mary, (sees Douglas.) Whom have we here .^ 
Alas ! Look on that face— look there, and tell 

me — , , . 

^^all she who ruins all who love and serve her, 
Make further struggles for a fleeting glory. 
Thus has it been with every one who loved me— 
Francis and Chatelet, gay Gordon, Rizzio, 
Darnley and Bothwell, and, the last of all, 
Devoted Douglas ! Importune me not— 
I will resist no longer. 

Rol. Leave not your heritage, devoted Queen ! 
True men turn rebels to your will to save you. 
Let us withstand by force. 

Mary. Roland, 'tis now too late : 
My page-my knight, farewell. Catharine, come 
hither ! 



Seyton, your Queen's last act is this — 

(Joms Roloyjid ajif^ Catharine 
Father, 
Your blessing, and farewell. Thanks, thanks tc 

all- 
One struggle more, and this sad scene is ended — 
Adieu, my native land ! 

The English wardens hand the Queen to the 
boat : and as she steps on boards the holly bush 
suddenly opens, and the White Lady of Avenel 
steps out of it. Ske advances a few paces, and 
addresses Sir Halbert Glendinnin^. 

Knightj no more the holly wear, 
Avenel claims its rig^htful heir. 
To RoL Manly page and youthful knight, 
Halbert's wrong is Roland's right. 
From the holly, from the well, 
Come I without sign or spell ; 
Now my wizard race is run, 
Now my wizard work is done ! 

She re-enters the holly bush, which sinks through 
the stage f to slow music, and the curtain drops. 



THE EKD. 



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